


The Many Phases of the Moon

by AsunderWolf



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: A bit darker tone than the canon in general, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beta Read, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Child Murder, Don’t copy to another site, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Home Invasion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Mass murdering, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nothing of these tags is explicit - everything is implied, Novelization, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 12:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsunderWolf/pseuds/AsunderWolf
Summary: The phases of the moon follow a cycle as the Moonshadow elves do. They live in a society shaped by rituals and duties, and it is commanded by the Royal Draconic family. Everyone has a role to fulfil at any cost. Failure is not even contemplated as a possibility, being punished severely. In a place so rigid, the little differences arisen from the individuality are dismissed and sometimes even despised. Especially if the connection with the arcanum is fragile; especially if what makes you unique is what makes you weaker.[Fill based fic focused mainly on Ethari, Runaan, and the Moonshadow customs, with slight canon variations by the end of season 3. This fic starts in Ethari’s childhood, passes through his teenage time and reaches his adulthood. It is an exploration of his character based on the bits of lore we can get by watching Seasons 1, 2, and 3 of The Dragon Prince.]
Relationships: Callum & Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Ethari & Rayla & Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Ethari & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning and comments
> 
>   * Fic written until Season 3 inclusive.
>   * Rayla’s parents’ names were finally revealed so I added them in the last moment: Lain [her father] and Tiadrin [her mother]. Since the show doesn’t show the relationship between Tiadrin, Lain, Ethari, and Runaan, I did not explore it in details. I would require some more information about Rayla’s parents for that. Maybe in another fic.
>   * This fic follows all headcanons listed in [this post ](https://lairofsentinel.tumblr.com/post/189452304186)[WARNING: It contains spoilers of this fic].
>   * We don’t see any hierarchy inside the Silvergrove, so I gave the name of elders/druids to those that take the main decisions in the village since the authors confirmed the Silvergrove has a [Council-like system of government](https://lairofsentinel.tumblr.com/post/189825056506). I assumed the Moonshadow elves have no elven royalty and respond directly to the Dragon Royalty.
>   * Many headcanon concepts about the Moonshadow society[ can be read here](https://lairofsentinel.tumblr.com/post/189410839391).
> 

> 
> This fic was written using a loop of the following songs of the The Dragon Prince Season 3 OST
> 
>   * Heartbloom
>   * One Feeling Too Far
>   * Silvergrove
>   * The Half-Moon
>   * There You Are
> 

> 
> If you read it with these songs in a loop, it will add an extra effect to the reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to thank [WibblytheSpaceAce ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WibblytheSpaceAce/pseuds/WibblytheSpaceAce)who betareaded the first part of the chapter and to [ChaoticTonic ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticTonic/pseuds/ChaoticTonic)for her beta-reading from that point on. This fic is more understandable thanks to their work.

He was panting, sweat running down his temples and a deep frown aiming at his adversary. His teacher stopped the combat and booped him on his nose.

“No heavy breathing. You need to be a shadow. Shadows don’t breathe.”

Runaan rolled his eyes but said nothing. He closed his lips and breathed twice to calm down. He looked past behind his Teacher. Several people of the Silvergrove were gathered around, watching their training. They were, after all, the promising generation of future Assassins.

As soon as he recovered his breath, Runaan asked for another spar, willing away his body's fatigue. The training continued for several hours as the sun crossed the sky and the audience decreased. When the moon first appeared, the teacher concluded the training and left the field. All the trainees fell to the ground, exhausted, breathing evenly and resting their muscles by spreading them across the ground, putting aside the strict protocol that they should follow. Many would consider that such intense training was too much for ten-year-old children, but that was exactly the objective.

Around that age, all the Moonshadow elves were enrolled to different training regimes, analysing their results. Those who excelled were going to work from that moment on in increasing their talents. It was obvious that Runaan had all the skills to become a warrior or an assassin, the most prestigious roles among the Moonshadow rows.

Tiadrin and Lain were laying on the ground, their legs and arms spread on the grass, their rounded faces tired.

“C’mon, Runaan. No more training for now.” The boy said, trying to convince his friend to stop following the protocol and let his exhaustion take over his small frame.

But Runaan refused. He forced himself to his feet and stood straight and proud even as he could feel weakness in his legs after such a long day of training. Looking around for a distraction, his eyes fell on the place, beyond the fence dividing the field from the rest of the Silvergrove, where the audience had been watching. Only one was left there, a child like him, no older than ten years old. Their eyes met for a second. Despite the distance, Runaan noticed the peculiar light brown colour of them.

The eye contact lasted a moment before the other boy smiled at him and clapped his hands in support. Runaan raised his eyebrows, surprised by that reaction, but also by that smile. His eyes would not move away from it. What was so special about that smile that it had drawn all of his attention?

But the question lasted as a nocturnal breeze of summer does. Unfortunately, a couple of adults touched the boy’s shoulder and said something to him. The boy with brown eyes looked back at him one last time, and with a wave of his hand, he followed the adults.

Runaan was not sure if he had met that kid before. It had to be. After all, every child had been exposed to hard training in the last five months to determine their abilities. But somehow, he could not remember this particular one, and it was hard to believe he could not do so. That big, bright smile was impossible to forget. It was a smile that was going to kept vivid in his mind for days. He would remember this kid if he truly met him before.

He had such unique _kind_ smile.

* * *

After months, he passed the many tests without much difficulties. From the original group of twenty children, only his friends Lain and Tiadrin remained with him. His Teacher was happy to have found so much talent that year. It was more common to end up with only one child worth of heavy training every two or three years. To have three of them at the same time was reason enough to celebrate. These three chosen ones were going to follow the path of the melee warrior, and they were going to explore in detail their specific talents in the following years. It was in that training when they could determine their final destiny as fighters, soldiers, vanguards, hunters or assassins.

Knowing that most children’s role would be decided by the end of that year, Runaan was curious about that child's fate. The kid owner of that _kind_ smile he had seen months ago and did not meet again in Silvergrove since.

Discreetly, Runaan started to investigate that child's whereabouts in the village, but it was impossible to find a trustworthy piece of information. It was not strange. If the boy had a natural talent for magic, he must have already travelled to the Moon Nexus where a moon mage evaluated the group and pointed out potential mages. If Runaan was right, he would have to wait till next month to see that _kind_ smile once again.

Runaan tried to forget his unsteadiness during that time. So he focussed on his own training. The adults around kept saying that his abilities were meant to be used in the hardest warrior level that an elf could aspire: the assassins.

The sound of the word assassin did not move anything in his soul. It was an empty word. No shame, no pride. Only a mere role. Maybe that was why he was destined to become one, it inspired nothing particular in him. And that apathy was a good characteristic in assassins, or at least the adults said so. In any case he simply shrugged at those comments because his life had been decided already, and everyone seemed pleased with it. That was enough for Runaan.

The end of the year came, and with it, the several groups of children that had left the village during those months finally returned. They reunited with their families and Silvergrove bloomed once more with the screams of children and playful runs, while the adults kept talking to each other, proud of their children’s recently determined destiny.

Runaan did not care about anything of it. Walking along the more lively village now, Runaan only wanted to find that kid. The smile, still too vivid for having past so much time, was stuck in his mind. And something inside him was telling him that watching that smile again would fix the uneasy feeling that had been growing in his chest for so long.

He walked close to the recently arrived moon mages, observing in silence everyone. He was more than sure that the boy had magic running in his veins. The striking smile plastered on his memory seemed to be proof enough of his skill in enchants. He had to be there. However, no matter how much time he spent observing that group, he never spotted him.

Frustrated, looking for a quiet place to rest from so many bustling reunions, he left the Silvergrove and headed to the river, a couple of kilometers far away. True to his training, never relaxing it, he made the travel with light steps and swift movements. However, a shadow close to the edge of the river caught his attention interrupting his run. It was a child, a bit shorter than him. That was easy for him to guess from his back. Using the shadows of the nearby trees, he surrounded the figure in the distance to see that face. And from a hidden bush he found the right angle to see it.

It was him. The boy with the magical smile.

But unlike that time he had seen him, he was not smiling but crying, looking at the unstoppable surface of the river, sometimes hitting his own booted feet with a stick. It was hard to believe that this boy was the same one that had displayed such beautiful smile in the past; even his vivid soft brown eyes had been replaced by a dark grey. Could that be possible?.

Runaan felt deeply uncomfortable with that crying figure, and not knowing what to do for him, he retraced his steps and left the kid alone. That sad image also stuck in his mind for too many weeks.

* * *

The gossip appeared a couple of days after the moon mages left the Silvergrove with the promise of returning to look for the future apprentices next year. They had found five talents among the six children they had taken. Their families could not be more proud of them. They were now waiting for Lunnaje to come, and see in them the strongest to start training him as the next guardian of the Moon Nexus.

All that seemed to be good news for the whole village, but the joy spread everywhere had a dark contrast: low whispers in the crowds appeared too. Among them Runaan found a name, repeated in the families whose children had already determined their role.

_Ethari_.

A name that meant nothing for Runaan, but he realized it was a curse.

_That poor child has no ability at all._

_From the six ones, he was the only one without magic._

_He must feel terrible._

_He is. But he can’t fight against his own lineage._

_Oh, no, don’t tell me he comes from that kind of family._

_When we got one of those? Weren't they extinct?_

_They came a decade ago, from a village of the North. Their son was only a baby._

_So that’s the baby of Lorem and Thamyx?._

_He is. I’ve heard it’s his father. His mother is a good mage. I don’t know what they were thinking when they got him. It is a pity. He is a good boy, but..._

_No talent. He can’t serve._

_No wonder. It’s the blood. Weak blood._

The comments of the adults around that name were always the same, full of pity and sadness. They talked about him as if he were a carrier of a curse impossible to lift. What had happened to that boy?.

But that was not his business. So Runaan shrugged it off. It has nothing to do with him. He only had to focus on his own training to fulfill his duty and bring honour to Silvergrove.

Despite denying his own desires, Runaan could not remove from the back of his mind the increasing curiosity of knowing more about that useless boy. So that, when Lunnaje finally came to Silvergrove, he followed her and observed her at a distance, hidden in the heights of the trees around the mage school.

The Nexus Keeper was surrounded by the five chosen children that were destined to become future mages, and crouching before them, she inspected their faces, taking a long time with each of them. Bored by the process, Runaan yawned. The boy of the _kind_ smile was not among those five children. He thought it had been a bad idea to sneak around and spy on mages, they were extremely boring to watch. They did not fight like warriors to whom observing them was a great reward in terms of learning new techniques. Instead, mages wasted hours of training speaking and talking and looking at their hands. This was a torture.

When he decided that enough time had been wasted, a small shadow around the school bushes caught his attention. The figure snuck behind the group and awaited patiently until Lunnaje dismissed everyone. Only then, the figure came out before the moon guardian. It was a little boy, walking with his head lowered, as if he were bathed in shame. There were no doubts. Runaan could easily recognize that boy. It was the same one that he had seen crying at the edge of the river. The same one with _that_ smile and _those_ eyes.

Runaan jumped among some branches and got close enough to hear them.

“Let me be your apprentice.” The boy said. By the quivering sound of his voice, he was close to cry, “Everyone is already learning something…”

Lujanne crouched before him, patting his little shoulder. She remembered him. The sweet child that the other mages told her was the only one who did not make it. Looking for some hope, she drew a rune in the air, blowing it against his little chest with a breath. Those caramel eyes glowed softly, but the effect did not last. Lujanne shook her head gently and cupped the child face.

“So, are you Ethari?” She said. The boy nodded in silence, not surprised that another adult could be aware of his cursed name before he could tell them. “I’m afraid that you can’t be my apprentice, my little dear. Your connection with our magic source is weak. Too weak. It’s a pity, because I would have loved your enthusiasm around me. A little bird told me you are an excellent student. But you can’t do magic.”

“I can’t fight either...Please… I’m sure I can do something with magic… _Something_.”

Out of pity, Lujanne cast moon fire in her palm, one of the easiest spells and awaited for the child to mirror her. Ethari joined both hands, and despite repeating the draconis words over and over, nothing sparkled in his tiny palms. After a moment, surrendering, he let his little hands fall to his sides and looked at the mage with deep pain reflected in his big eyes. Runaan felt something at the sight of such face. The boy was broken in thousand pieces. How could that warm smile belong to the same person he was observing? Runaan wondered.

“Your connection with your arcanum is so weak, dear. There is nothing that you or me can do.”

“Make it stronger. Please. I beg you.”

“I cannot. It’s not something you can make stronger if it’s not there already. Little one, it’s your blood.” Lujanne hugged him. “It’s not your fault. Your family had a noble duty in ancient times and became weaker in doing it. Now... they need to find purpose again. _You_ need to find it on your own.”

The boy cried again in the middle of the embrace and his sobbing tensed Runaan’s chest. He wondered about those cryptic words on his way back home while the image of that smile kept present in his mind. He sighed after a long moment of reflection and shook his head to remove useless worries. He now had a goal to accomplish, a duty: to become the finest warrior of the Moonshadow elves. There was no time for petty matters.


	2. Chapter 2

Runaan fell on the ground, rolled over, and hit his back against the fence. He immediately crouched, wooden dagger in his hand at the ready, but the other boy attacked him, using a whip around his neck. He strangled him.

The elven girl approached him, the tip of her long wooden sword touching his chin. “I won”.

“Cheater. Both at the same time is not fair.” Runaan said.

The boy behind him released his whip and laughed. “Don’t blame me. She is the boss.” He could not finish his words without immediately having his shoulder softly punched by the girl. Both smiled at each other with deep fondness.

“Since you two whine so much, why don’t you attack me at the same time instead?” She said brandishing her sword in the air with an elegant demeanour.

Runaan scoffed. That was Tiadrin, the best face-to-face combat warrior of their generation. A teenager elf of short hair and long fringe who had surpassed everyone’s expectations. Her long wooden sword, which she moved so easily as if it were made of feathers, was a hell of a challenge for everyone who fought against her. Anyone would guess that manipulating a wooden sword was one thing, but using one made of metal was entirely different. Not for her. Practising with the wooden sword allowed her not to hold back and keep on improving her attacks. She started using it in her training after she injured Lain severely with the real one.

“Do you accept the challenge, Lain?” Runaan asked. He was not going to fight her alone.

The tallest boy smiled, all bare teeth in something that pretended to be a mischievous gesture. He winked at her and then walked around her with his whip in hand. Runaan recovered his wooden daggers and mirrored the movement in the opposite direction. Both against her was incredibly unfair. _For them_.

After a few seconds of careful observation, of measuring her open sides and her potential blocks, both boys attacked in sync, trying to cover all ranges with their weapons, but Tiadrin was faster than them. She blocked Runaan’s daggers with her own blade and threw him against some bushes with a potent kick, then she focused on Lain who could not resist some clashes and ended up reduced on the ground, his arms against his back while Tiadrin was pressing suggestively with her knee between his legs.

“I win. Again.” She laughed.

Standing up again and recovering from the effort, they shared their opinions about what kind of improvements they could do in their attacks and defences. After the exchange of advice, they finally put an end to the training of that day. When they bowed slightly one another, as a gesture of respect for the sparring offered, they heard an enthusiastic clap some meters away from them. They looked around immediately spotting a teenager around their age, leaning against the fence, observing them with a big smile. Lain and Tiadrin recognised the boy in the distance; he was always alone in some corner of the Silvergrove. He had never been seen training, neither combat nor magic.

Runaan looked at him, immediately struck by that smile. _That_ smile. _The_ smile. All the memories he had forgotten in his mind during those last years, the gossip of the Silvergrove five years ago, that boy crying at the edge of the river, all those fragments of memories without any meaning returned to him under the command of that smile. The kid of the _kind_ smile. He frowned slightly.

Lain and Tiadrin approached the boy and talked with him in their usual casual style, while Runaan, several steps away from them, was still considering what to do. That boy was a bad omen, the wake of the bad luck, the trailed-off words of a blessing. He came from a family that everyone in the village talked about in whispers. There was shame and curses in his name. That name that he tried to remember but it kept blurring. It did not matter. They had to stay away from him. Despite… _that_ smile.

But while his mind was gathering the fragmented memories that he had about this boy from five years ago, Tiadrin and Lain had already jumped over the fence and were patting the boy’s back. Lain even wrapped his arm around the boy’s neck and rubbed his fist in his messy hair. Runaan knew he could not escape being dragged into that unnecessary contact any longer. Bad omen or not, they were doomed. Soon, they will be part of the Silvergrove’s whispers associated with this boy. He sighed in resignation and shrugged it off.

Sheathing his daggers, Runaan walked to them, jumped over the fence and approached the group. He stayed a step behind Tiadrin, observing the boy with silent intensity.

“So, my name is Tiadrin, and this big boy-” She softly hit her fist against the teenager’s chest, “-is Lain, my boyfriend.”

The tall boy smiled at him offering his hand. It made not much sense after all the previous hugging, but certain formal manners were always followed by everyone, even by those with the most carefree attitude.

“My name is Ethari.” Instead of shaking that hand, he covered it with both hands and bowed before him. Lain and Tiadrin looked at each other, surprised of that extremely formal gesture, never seen in Silvergrove before, but they did not share any remark.

“Ethari, uh? I don’t remember training with you.” Tiadrin said casually.

The word _training_ had a devastating effect on the boy. His smile disappeared, and his eyes dropped down to the ground. His face was covered by a mantle of shame. “I’ve been… training… other things…”

“Are you a mage?” she insisted.

Ethari shook his head and pressed his lips in a thin line. He was nervous and guilty. It was so easy for Runaan to read that anguish emotion strangling his throat, that his intervention came out naturally. He forgot about the gossip, about the bad omen, about anything. Somehow, he just wanted that _kind_ smile back on that face. So he stepped forward.

“My name is Runaan.” He interrupted Tiadrin with a serious and grave face, as he always had.

His commanding voice made Ethari extend both hands in the air, asking for his to reproduce the same gesture he had done with Lain, but Runaan only looked at those hands. His fingers were shorter than the elven average. In fact, now that he was seeing him face to face, he could notice a slight difference in his constitution. Slightly shorter and bulkier than any elf. A variation in the limit between what is normal from what is foreign. It was not easy to notice it, but the difference was there. His sharp talent for observation could not be fooled. However, he did not pointed out anything. He simply limited himself to see those hands and frowned.

Misreading his frown, Ethari waved his hands and smiled awkwardly. “Oh, you are… You are the famous Runaan! Everyone talks about you and your talent.”

“His reputation is growing.” Tiadrin said, crossing her arms and looking curiously at her serious friend.

“It’s an honor to see your skills in action. Your movements are so flawless.” Ethani said, his eyes shining a little bit as his smile broadened. But it was not entirely genuine, there was a sad reflection in it.

Runaan caught it, just in time, before Ethari could erase that silent pain with another type of smile. What was that? Ethari’s intense eyes were so piercing and fearless admiring him, that Runaan had to see aside for a moment. Unthinkable of him. Those light brown eyes were starting to compete with that _kind_ smile on his lips.

“Do you want to see our training tomorrow? We don’t mind.” Lain added. His words only made those brown eyes brighter.

Runaan looked at his friends with an annoyed yet silent expression. It was too kind from them not to ask him if he wanted a damn stranger observing them for hours. But as usual, he sighed silently and said nothing.

Out of the blue, a dual long rumble that lasted for two seconds was heard coming from Tiadrin’s and Lain’s stomachs. They opened wide their eyes and chuckled, bowing a little at the new boy, as a way to ask forgiveness for such a scene. Ethari only chuckled with them.

“We _truly_ need to eat now, so we need to leave, but we will see you tomorrow.” Tiadrin said grabbing Lain’s forearm and pulling him with her.

Runaan shook his head slowly as his face became more serious. He remained in silence even when Ethari looked at him for a second, expecting him to leave too. But only an awkward long moment remained between them. Ethari’s eyes were already clearer from that sadness he had seen at first, and were now looking at him, growing in curiosity. Something terrible was going to be shot from that mouth, Runaan knew it.

“I’ve heard you are good at spells too.” Ethari said, his eyes fell immediately at Runaan’s slender hands.

“I’m not. I only can use one or two. For stealth, mainly.”

Ethani giggled. His eyes shone in a particular way that Runaan knew that they were going, for sure now, to compete with that smile forever. “More than I can do.” He sighed. “You are good at so many things. Everyone speaks so good of you.”

“What are you training for?” Runaan asked, derailing the focus of the conversation. He hated to talk about himself. There was no shame nor pride in doing that, only that apathy that was always there, in his core. Besides, he was curious about this boy’s fate. He had seen him five years ago being rejected by the warrior and mage teachers alike. He must have been doing some mundane activities. Something less elite, probably. For some unknown reason, he wanted to know it.

Ethari looked down, his face wincing in pain. “Nothing. I’m too weak for everything.”

“Are you ill?” Runaan said, wondering if he could scratch some extra information about that _family curse_ he had heard for such a long time ago.

Ethari shook his head. “I’m really only good for nothing”

“No one is so.”

Ethari looked at him exposing without shame the sadness that was tingeing his eyes. Runaan was surprised and a bit delighted to see such a range of emotions so transparent in a face. This elf was certainly peculiar.

“I wish I could believe that.” Ethari said.

“Did you train for fighting?”

“Yes, but my weapons fell on the ground all the time.”

Runaan looked again to those slightly thick short fingers. Of course they were falling.

“Magic?” Runaan insisted.

“Weak.”

“Foretelling?”

“I see nothing in the reflections.”

“Farmer?”

“Plants don’t like me. They wither at my touch.”

Runaan scratched his head. “Really nothing?”

This was a concept he had never heard of. A Moonshadow elf without purpose, without a role to serve the Queen? Unbelievable. How could life would have a sense for him?.

“So you are doing nothing everyday?” Runaan’s tone came from mere curiosity, but somehow it felt tinged with scowl.

Ethari had listened too many elders reproaching his uselessness to his parents, so the comment became another dagger on his back, one more of the many that Silvergrove had been stabbing him for more than five years.

“I only read.” He said ashamed.

Runaan hummed, stroking his chin with his fingers. “There must be something you want to do...”

“At this point, I only want to help. And make adults stop telling me that I’m like a human.” He chuckled with a nervous laugh, desperate to lighten the mood. However, the joke was more than a mere joke. It had its own weight, a bitter taste at the end. Runaan could see it so easily.

“Well, humans can’t be exceptional in any field… but they are resourceful. They craft what they can’t master.”

Ethari had been expecting another dagger coming in, but he blinked in surprise at that comment. It took him a moment for its meaning to sink. “Craft? That’s so mundane.”

“I don’t know… If you can’t fight, maybe you can create. Besides…” He left his phrase incomplete and unsheathed his metal daggers, he made them spin on his palms and showed them to him. The blade was opaque and some dented parts made their edge uneven. “We could use a change of weapons, don’t you think?” He sheathed them and looked at those soft brown eyes. “Anyway, what do I know?.” Runaan shrugged. They looked at each other in mutual curiosity, until Runaan, unable to resist that intense look that was starting to recover its enthusiastic glint with the idea, spun on his heels and looked at him over his shoulder.

“I need to eat too. Good night, Ethari.” He said, moving his hand in a single wave and left.

Ethari smiled.

* * *

He took all the books of weapon designs he could find in Silvergrove and spent the next two weeks isolated in his room, reading. His only break was the short stroll he would take around Silvergrove, ending in the training field of the fighters. It was never empty. Those three elves were always there, at any hour, sparring each other.

He would sit on the fence and give his mind a rest by observing them. Ethari could not avoid letting some degree of sadness squeeze his heart at that sight. They were so powerful in comparison to him. But the sentiment never grew too much thanks to the kindness of those three teenagers who tended to turn around in the middle of their practice and wave their hands at him. Or at least, Lain and Tiadrin would do it. Runaan would only give him a dry nod in the distance.

This routine lasted a couple of months until Ethari found enough courage to step into the workplace of Rhalis, the Silvergrove’s crafter. The man was a grumpy old elf whose fame of adamant stubbornness was always emphasised in any discussion. Rhalis’ personality was so dry and hard that he became part of a common saying in the Silvergrove. _Harder and stubborner than Rhalis_ , it was usually said. Nobody knew much about his past beyond the fact that he had lost his only two children during the war, and a bad injury finished his service to the King prematurely.

Ethari walked around the main pond of Rhalis’ house and observed three flowers floating on it. A couple of weeks ago a mission had been settled and Rhalis had been the responsible of that ritual. If he was lucky, maybe he would be the one crafting those delicate flowers soon. However, he cut short his daydream, it was too early to fantasise about having a concrete purpose. Trying to soothe his heartbeat, and hardening his mind to listen one more rude rejection, Ethari breathed in and out, observing the beauty of the craftsmanship and the gentle reflection of the flowers on the water. Then, he walked upstairs, following the path wrapped around the main tree to reach the workplace’s door. He put his fist in front of it, ready to knock, but hesitated. Maybe this was a big mistake.

When fears and doubts spread over every fibre of his body, he shook his head and stopped. This was, indeed, a bad idea. He spun on his heels and gave a step away when the door opened. He snapped his head to it and saw him. The old grumpy man with deep wrinkles and a permanent frown. His eyes, turned grey over time, surveyed his body up and down.

As usual, out of nervousness, Ethari smiled, straightening his body and acquiring a stance of a soldier salute.

“What’ you want?” the raspy voice of the elder commanded him.

“Sir Rhalis… I’ve been… Uhm… I would like to ask you… if… are you… accepting apprentices?”

The old man opened the door wider, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He looked at his body once more, measuring every inch. “Why’ you ask?”

Ethari looked down, searching for a better way to say something so hard about himself. “I would like…”

“Spit it out. Cut the bullshit. My patience is thin.”

More nervous than ever, Ethari felt the pressure of his life crushing his chest. He straightened his back even more, as if it were possible, and his words came out in a compressed fast manner. “I want to be your apprentice. I’ve been reading all the books we have, the whole collection of elven weaponry, the human arsenal, and several ones of enchants for metal. I also made a study of the geological conditions around the Silvergrove, and I think I found some good spots for mining. I know you have been struggling lately with your metal stock… so I wanted to propose you a deal: you can teach me without complaints about my abilities as long as I provide you the ores. My body can handle it. For the Moon, please. _Please_.” He finished his words with a deep bow before the old man.

Rhalis scratched his chin and lifted the boy’s jaw with a finger. He took Ethari's wrist and extended his arm, observing it thoughtfully. He had lost some sight over the years, so his inspection was too careful as if he were checking a mount. After scanning every detail, the old man nodded; it was obvious that the boy was not the typical fragile child. His arms were promising for the hard work to be done.

“So… you are Ethari?” The old man said.

Ethari blinked, surprised that the man would know his name. A second later, he imagined the reason. He moved his chin down and sighed out of frustration. His fame as the most useless elf in Silvergrove was not very rewarding. He nodded with resignation.

“I’ll wait you tomorrow.” The man said and closed shut the door.

Ethari blinked again, this time frowning for a moment. Then a silly smile curved his lips. _Apprentice_. He had become the apprentice of someone!

The first weeks were exhausting. Mining was harder than what he had imagined, but he could not complain. Nobody would take him as an apprentice of anything otherwise. Maybe it made sense that only Rhalis would have accepted him; nobody in their sane mind, not even a child as desperate as him, would ask this old grumpy man to teach anything. He was rude most of the time and bitter, and would complain about everything that his apprentice did. Enduring his mood was as hard as mining. Perhaps even harder.

He thought the peak of exhaustion was related to breaking stones for hours in order to obtain small layers of rare metals. No. The true torture started when Rhalis put him beside the forge and gave him the responsibility to turn all the collected ores into ingots.

The first times, Ethari had almost fainted due to the high temperature of the furnace room. Moonshadows were creatures of coldness and nocturnal breezes, of thin dew and subtle reflections on the water. What Rhalis was doing was proper of a Sunfire elf. But, as focused on war as Silvergrove was, they could not afford the luxury of leaving the responsibility of forging their weapons to a foreign region who did not respect the King and Queen in the same way. So, they always left a broken Moonshadow to learn this contemptible work. And Ethari had to endure this training. After all, he had no other choice, his blood was _impure_.

When the months passed by and Ethari could finally stay hours in front of the furnace without feeling weak, the second stage of torture began. Rhalis gave him a pair of tongs and a heavy hammer.

“Make your first blade.” He said, dry and commanding as usual.

“But I have no idea how to do it.” Ethari answered, his eyes open wide in terror.

“What’ da hell you came to me saying you've read a bunch of books, uh? I want to see what you learned from them.”

It took a whole month to do it. The hammering was the worst part. If breaking stones had destroyed his back for weeks, the thick heavy hammer had pulverised his shoulders. The first twenty hammering could be done easily, but then, the hammer started to become heavier and heavier. His palms ended up covered with blisters, and his shoulders were impossible to move. Returning to his house every day was just a slow walk to the deadly slumber awaiting him in his bed.

Tiredness, soreness, and pain were spread all over his body. These were on an entirely different level, impossible to guess for anyone who has never experienced them. The exhaustion with which his life had been filled with had forced him to quit visiting the training field.

It was only natural, since he had to catch up with years worth of training that the rest of the children in Silvergrove started at their tenderest ages. Training in his teenage years were going to be another of the many efforts he had to face, if not the biggest one in his life. Some days, when his tiredness dried his soul and made the idea of giving up more than tempting, he tried to find comfort in the thought that this path was, at the very least, _something_. He had no choice. It was the only purpose he could pick to _craft_ his own duty.

* * *

The pickaxe fell on the ground with the last movement. Ethari hissed out of pain and looked at his hands. A blister had been damaged with the friction of the handle and some drops of blood were pouring from it. He sighed and sat on the rock.

He was several kilometres far away from Silvergrove, filling the small cart of ores to supply Rhalis’ mineral stock. He could not believe it had been almost a year since he had convinced the old man to take him as an apprentice. It had not been easy at all, but despite the rough treatment, the man was teaching him well. And he was giving him really good results that satisfied him. Well, _almost_.

Enchantments had been the worst of the year. His weak magic could not even allow him to perform soft enchants on weapons. Rhalis had almost lost his mind the day he realised this flaw, too late to simply kick Ethari out of his workplace and quit wasting time anymore. Now they had to deal with that problem.

Ethari let his body lie on the stone and looked at the intense blue sky. The sun was warming his skin, maybe too much for any moonshadow, but not for him. After a whole year of forging in that hellish room, staying under the sun was as gentle as the warmth of a mother’s hug. He closed his eyes and let his exhausted body rest while his hand healed a bit. They had hardened much, but not enough to stop getting hurt. He needed to make them even rougher.

He lifted a hand to the sky and looked at its palm. The base of each finger had an overgrowth of hard skin, and the side of his thumb was swollen by a long annoying blister that had been too stubborn to turn into a callus.

Out of the blue, behind his hand, the sun was completely covered, and a pair of intense turquoise eyes appeared while a long white hair fell by his side, suspended in the air. Ethari jumped, startled by the sudden appearance when no sound or presence could be sensed a moment ago. He gasped and tripped over a piece of stone, falling down on the ground. He landed on his hurt palms and several _ouch_ es, one after the other, were repeated like a mantra until he finally stood up again.

He observed at the serious elf still on the rock, looking at him. The intruder jumped to the ground with the grace proper of a feline, and surprisingly, without producing any sound.

“Runaan.” Ethari finally said. It had been more than a year since the last time he saw him, or Tiadrin or Lain. Rhalis’s commands and his own body’s exhaustion kept draining him every day, preventing him to have a life outside his routine of going from the workplace to his bed and vice versa.

“So it’s you. I was not sure.” Runaan said. Ethari tilted his head to a side, wondering about the meaning of that comment. “You… have changed quite a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“Have I?” He looked down at himself, the only change he could perceive was the excessive tiredness wrapping his body permanently.

Runaan scanned him with his grave eyes. Ethari’s face was almost the same, maybe his jaw had become more angular, but his body had changed significantly. His skin was darker, and his shoulders had turned broader. Now he looked bulkier than when he saw him for the first time. However, as soon as he returned to see that face, he had no doubt. Those warm brown eyes were there, unchanged; now they were free of that grey sadness that had made them opaque a year ago. If only he could see that smile again.

“It’s been a while since the last time we saw you.” Runaan said, “You stopped coming to watch our training. What happened?”

Ethari looked down. He had missed that too, but the tiredness was unbearable. He invited Runaan to sit by his side while he resumed mining. He explained between hits how his life had changed and how hard it was being Rhalis’ apprentice.

In the middle of his explanation his pickaxe got stuck again and his muscles gave up. He pushed the handle with all what he got, which was barely anything by the end of that day, but could not move it at all. So he sat beside Runaan and rested for a while, finishing his narration.

“So now I do the mining, the forging, the melting, the hammering.” Ethari concluded wincing at the movement of his fingers.

Curious, Runaan observed those hands discreetly. It was the part of his body that had changed the most. They looked thicker than any elven hand he had ever seen, and their palms were a painful picture. Silent, he stood up and approached some bushes from where he took a big leaf and some fruits that he smashed until turning them into a soft dough.

He gave the leaf to Ethari. “Put it on your hands. It will calm down the soreness.”

Ethari chuckled. If soreness were his only problem. But he said nothing. He always appreciated a kind gesture. He put the dough on one palm and rubbed his hands until the burning soothed. Maybe it was time to end the mining for that day. He observed his pickaxe still stuck on the stone and sighed. He did not want to struggle with it anymore.

Challenged somehow, Runaan took it, moving its handle to free it, but what started as an elegant silent movement, ended with his whole body pushing up, using legs and shoulders to make some kind of lever to release the axe from the stone. But it was useless. No matter what he would do, the pickaxe was stubbornly stuck.

All that grotesque demeanour and the ridiculous groaning coming from such an elegant assassin as Runaan made Ethari laugh. Runaan stopped his useless effort and looked at him immediately, wiping out the sweat from his temple. Ah. There it was, that smile. The _kind_ smile. Contagious as it was, he could not help it but smile back. That was Ethari, the child he had seen crying five years ago.

Ethari stood up. He twisted his neck and shoulders, and some crackling sounds became the preamble of a huge effort. He took the handle of the pickaxe once again, and with a short grunt, he could finally free it. Runaan whistled, blinking. _That_ had been a lot of strength on the spot. Then he noted them. Those arms, partially covered by loosen sleeves were slowly growing up thicker and thicker over the years. No wonder. It was the result of daily mining, hammering, dragging ores. He felt a bit sad for Ethari. So much hard work for a Moonshadow.

“Did you find purpose in this path?” Runaan asked out of the blue.

Ethari put the pickaxe on his shoulder and threw the last ore on the cart. He smiled at him. “I need to thank you for that.”

Runaan looked at him letting the surprise transpire in his face, “Do you?”

“Your suggestion guided me. It’s a lot of work, indeed. But at least… it’s something.”

Runaan observed the rest of the mining vein on the rock. That profession was not particularly cherished among elves, but it was needed. Someone had to do it. It was common that older fighters or severely injured ones like Rhalis ended up as bitter weapon masters. Nobody was raised into it. It was a lesser purpose.

“If you say so.” Runaan said.

He could not control the direction of his own eyes; he ended up looking once again at Ethari, enjoying the view. That smile on his face, that warm glint in his caramel eyes. Runaan broke the eye contact and cleared his throat. “So, shall we go?”

Ethari nodded. He threw the pickaxe into the cart and placed himself in front of it. He grabbed the cart’s shafts with a soft wince on his face and grunted to make it move. The first effort was big, but then it followed easily. Runaan opened his eyes wide. That had been… impressive. After all that tiredness Ethari still had strength enough to push a cart full of ores? He blinked, surprised. And a little bit terrified.

“Your punch must be deadly.” Runaan said walking by Ethari’s side back to Silvergrove.

Ethari frowned a bit confused. “What?”

“You certainly are strong. More than any elf I’ve ever seen.”

But the compliment only brought some worry in that gentle face. Ethari did not say anything, not even smiling out of courtesy, and looked at the ground all the way back. Runaan felt he had made a mistake with that comment, but he could not guess why. All he could see in Ethari’s face was… shame?


	3. Chapter 3

After two years Ethari’s life seemed more bearable. His body had finally acquired the resilience that was needed to work daily in heavy tasks without feeling exhausted at night, and could find some free time to retake his old habit of watching his fighter friends training.

Tiadrin and Lain had been assigned to become soldiers, raw warriors of vanguard troops, their frontal style made them exceptional clashing fighters. On the other side, Runaan had turned into what everyone had expected, a fine master of stealth with soft deadly movements. All of them required their personal weapons and occasional fixes here and there which, since a couple of months ago, had became part of Ethari’s duty. The old Rhalis' health had worsened recently, so his responsibilities started to slowly shift into Ethari’s tasks.

Crafting weapons had been challenging at first, but in the end, Ethari could master the techniques to do a decent job. The worst part, however, still was the applying of enchants on them. Despite the practice and hours that Ethari spent daily in the moon mage house to strengthen his connection with the arcanum, it was useless. The only way to perform enchants was to cheat. The trick he had found so far was to break moon opals that he found in his daily mining, and use them to attach the enchant onto the blade. It was a cheap trick. Everyone could do that, even a human. These enchants had an ephemeral nature, and even though Ethari worked in extra tricks to make them last longer, it seemed he could not make them permanent.

The Silvergrove warriors appeared every week complaining about the weakness of their weapons enchants or the strange feeling in their hands every time they grabbed them. Runaan had been the main one among them. Although sometimes the enchant was still holding it, he used to appear in the workplace asking his friend to reinforce it, week after week. He remained there, silent, as usual, observing Ethari to use moon opals, moving his hands on the blades, chanting softly.

Ethari was so focused on his task that Runaan could stare at him without restrictions. It was one of the small pleasures he liked to indulge himself: observing that _kind_ face from the distance. Not because he had an ulterior interest, or a hidden desire. No. That was stupid. It was… just… artistic appreciation. Yes. He liked to think in his friend’s face as a rare piece of art worth observing in detail. Always.

“I’m so sorry.” Ethari said extending the blade of his dagger to him.

Runaan blinked, his trance broken in an instant.

Ethari smiled a bit ashamed at the disconcerted face of Runaan. “I’ve been forcing you to come here every week because I can’t pull a proper enchant on them.” He sighed mortified. “I hope this will hold better. Come again if not, of course.”

Runaan came back the next week, and the next, and the next. He always explained that something different had happened with his daggers. He claimed that there was something working strange in them. A tickle in his palms, a burning, a sudden rush of electricity. When it was not his daggers, it was his bow, or its arrows. Although the effects he described were almost impossible to happen, the serious and grave expression in his face left nothing to be doubted in his words. But they put a lot of stress on Ethari.

In one of the many opportunities that Runaan went to the workplace, Tiadrin and Lain accompanied him for a standard check of his weapons. Ethari reinforced the enchant on them and remained talking for a while, joking about the future of his friends and wondering about gifts. The conversation derailed in the desire that all of them had for owning multifunctional weapons, all in one. Ethari found the thought quite challenging and, turning cryptic, he promised to give them a gift eventually.

That night, when Runaan left the Silvergrove to stroll around, he reached the Lake of the Laments, an ancient place where the reflection of the moon on its surface granted powerful energy. It was his favourite spot to relax when he was off duty.

He peacefully walked along its edge looking at the waxing moon on the lake’s surface. When he was going to sit, he heard some steps approaching. True to his training, he rushed into nearby bushes stealthily and awaited to see the owner of the footsteps.

The more he awaited, the more he became offended by the grotesque sound of them. They were heavy and lacked any interest in staying hidden. They were almost petulant, he thought. But his criticism stopped when the figure appearing in the path was Ethari’s.

Unaware of his presence, Ethari approached the lake and sat on its border, exactly where Runaan was going to do so. He removed his boots with a bit of anger and put his bare feet inside the water. He let a hiss of pain escaped his lips and threw his body on the ground, arms extended, exhausted, and remained there, observing the moon in the clean sky.

Runaan did not want to bother him, it was clearly a moment of self-reflection, of privacy. So he turned over his heels and tried to walk away when the sound of a calm sniff stopped him. He remained still, his own breathing too slow and hidden even for himself, just to be sure of what he had just heard. And then, another sniff followed it.

He could not remain indifferent. He looked again at that figure in the distance and distinguished the back of Ethari’s hands being rubbed against his eyes. His chest felt suddenly tight and a wave of hesitation wrapped him up. He remembered that child crying at the edge of the river and felt touched. What could he do?. It was hard to decide without knowing the source of Ethari’s problem.

He sighed, annoyed at himself, and rolled his eyes knowing he should not do what he was going to do anyways. But he could not help it. The frightful chance that the warm smile from his memory could be lost forever on Ethari's face forced him to take action on the matter. The child he had seen almost a decade ago, at the edge of the river, crying and hitting his own feet with a stick, turned clearer in his mind.

_Old habits die hard._

So he stepped out from the bushes, made his steps heavy, and approached him.

As soon as Ethari noted someone was getting close, he sat on the ground, nervous, almost hysterical, and put quickly his feet into the boots, soaking them all. Then he cleaned his face rubbing his sleeves against it, and inhaled soundly to cut down his soft sobbing.

“Enjoying the moonlight?” Runaan said, more as a way to make his identity obvious. And it worked. Ethari’s shoulders relaxed at his voice and without turning his head to look at him he could hear a soft scoff, almost exhaled into a smile.

“It’s a good spot to think.”

Runaan stood up beside the young man. He did not need to look at Ethari’s face directly. He observed it in the quiet surface of the lake. It took Ethari a moment to realise that, despite hiding it from direct observation, Runaan was already staring at him with his cold eyes. Ethari frowned, ashamed of being in such a situation, and then he looked him back in the reflection too. The silence only made everything harder.

“What pains you?” Runaan whispered.

Ethari looked at his palms, which could be directly seen by Runaan at his side. They were full of blisters and hardness. That was one of the many reasons why elves did not consider weapon crafting a skill source of pride. It changed them. It made them less graceful.

“Ah, I see. Your hands hurt.” Runaan said. It was a childish excuse, but he offered it as an easy escape for Ethari to use in case he did not want to explain the truth.

Ethari frowned confused and, raising his head, he looked up at him, directly. It was just a moment. The reflection be damned. “No, it’s not..”

Between the opaque reflection of the lake and that pair of caramel eyes looking directly at him by his side, Runaan chose the latter. He moved his head and kept the direct visual contact. He crouched beside Ethari to reduce the height difference and, in the middle of a deep silence, they remained looking at each other’s eyes for a short moment. Or maybe it was a long moment, they could not know. It did not matter.

“What pains you then?” Runaan insisted.

Only then Ethari raised his frown and let his sadness be clear in his eyes. They turned teary and, unable to hold that icy trained gaze of Runaan, he averted his look once again and observed him through the reflection of the Lake. Runaan did the same.

“I had an argument with Rhalis.” Ethari started. “It’s been the same one for many years. He is disappointed. My enchants are too weak. They fade too soon. It endangers the fighters. I can’t find a way to make them last. To make them stronger. I don’t know.”

Runaan blinked at the realisation of the consequences that his silly unconsidered attitude had brought upon him. “Oh, is this about my daggers? my bow?”

“Not only yours. Tiadrin and Lain have been asking me for enchants I can’t do. We need to wait for Lujanne to visit us and ask her to enchant many weapons at the same time. I can’t find another way to fix this situation.” A tortured sigh came out from Ethari's chest. His only ability was still a mediocre one.

Runaan snorted and rolled his eyes. What Tiadrin and Lain wanted was a ridiculous cosmetic enchant imitating a stardust effect in their weapons. It was useless. “You know what they want is stupid.”

Ethari chuckled and rubbed his eyes a bit to wipe the tears threatening to run along his cheeks at any moment.

That beautiful soft sound stopped Runaan’s breath for a moment and observed the reflection of Ethari’s face on the lake. His small eyes, shining with some remnants of a tear, that warm smile, the velvety reflection of moonlight on his skin marks. Runaan thought stupidly that it was more than obvious that enchants could never work. The young man was an enchant himself.

“Cosmetic enchants are the easiest. Yet, I can’t make them.” Ethari said breaking the moment.

Runaan closed his eyes and frowned. He had to do the right thing. “My daggers are fine. My bow is excellent. They always were.”

Ethari half-smiled. “You don’t need to say that. I know I’m not as strong as Rhalis. My enchants are always weaker.”

“No, they are not....I've lied to you.”

Runaan stood up immediately and looked up at the moon directly. His silliness could not be the cause of making Ethari feel worse than he already felt.

Ethari chuckled, thinking it was a bad joke, but the lasting silence and the serious pose of the other man, made him hesitate. Soon, he realised Runaan was serious.

“But... Why?”

“It doesn't matter.” Runaan unsheathed his daggers and made them spin in the air to fall on his hands again. “You did it well. They have magnificent enchants. I’m deeply sorry for my careless behaviour.” And after he sheathed them, Runaan left the lake with hasty steps.

Ethari turned his head to look as his figure disappeared among the bushes. He frowned, deeply confused.

* * *

He hated long swords. This was a prototype, so it did not require to be perfect in its details, but still he wanted to make a fine piece. After a month of folding and welding the metal over itself thousands of times, the purity of the blade felt right to him. Now he had to do the most boring part of it. The grinding part, where the shape of the blade was determined and the intricate details he liked to add to his works were applied.

While he was sharpening the point of the sword with a whetstone, the doors of the workplace opened. It was Dalemy, the most powerful hunter of Silvergrove, and also the youngest one of the hunter group, a true prodigy. He did not stop his work and smiled at her with a short nod as a greeting.

“You are always working hard.” She said, stepping closer and observing Ethari’s work over his shoulder.

“Crafting is hard to master. I need to work hard.”

The young woman hummed and walked along the workplace observing the walls. Several weapons were displayed on them, revealing their beauty and deadly power, while on some tables a lot of blueprints and new designs were piled up in a messy way. She surveyed every corner of the place, making Ethari a bit nervous but never stopping the sharpening process.

Tired of the monotonous sound of her walking, Ethari sighed. “Do you need a weapon? A new design? Reinforcement of your weapon enchantment?”

The young woman turned on her heels and looked at him. Her aqua coloured eyes squinted and a mischievous smile curved her lips. She walked closer to him, dragged a stool, and sat in front of him. Her smile never faded. Ethari stopped rubbing the stone against the blade and observed her directly, curious.

“You know… Runaan is a lonely person.” She said. Ethari’s shoulders tightened a bit. “He has been considered a prodigy among the Moonshadow fighters.”

“We should all be grateful to have so many prodigies among our own.” Ethari said looking at her. “I feel safer with all of you being our protection. I thank you.”

The young woman raised an eyebrow and twisted her lips a bit. Was that sarcasm?. “Whatever. I want to focus on Runaan.”

Ethari waited silently, looking at her.

She approached his face, secretive. “He seems close to you.”

Now it was Ethari who raised an eyebrow. “Is he?” The only interactions he had always had with the intimidating fighter was related to weapons. How could anyone consider _that_ a sign of closeness?.

“Yes. He usually trains after... finishing his training. The only times I don’t see him training is when he is with you. So… I was wondering… you two must talk a lot.”

Ethari scratched his sweated temple. “I guess?”

“Excellent!” She clapped once and dragged the stool even closer, approaching his ear so she could spoke lowly. “Do you know if he is interested in someone?”

He shook his head slowly, a bit surprised by the question until he saw that bright glint in Dalemy’s eyes and he finally understood. He opened wide his eye, and his mouth was slightly agape. “Oh, I see...” He chuckled relaxed. “We don’t talk about those topics. So, I’m sorry I don’t know anything about that. But you should talk to him directly. He can't reject our most powerful hunter.”

Her smile broadened, “Do you think so?”

He nodded. “You are beautiful and powerful. It’s hard to overlook that.”

She giggled, and infected with that laughter, he smiled back. Exactly in that moment, Runaan came into the workplace and observed both. His face was a stone, stuck in his grave serious gesture, as his icy eyes travelled all over the scene. The close stools, the sharpening stone abandoned on the blade, those last words he had just heard from that gentle voice, the silly smile stuck in both of them. Especially in him. _That_ smile. He could not help but observe it a bit longer than anything else.

With an elegant movement, Dalemy stood up and looked at Ethari. “I must leave, but can we talk later? At midnight?”

He nodded, his smile still on his face. As soon as Dalemy’s figure left the place, he looked at Runaan. “Can I help you with something? Some enchant became weaker?”

Runaan looked back over his own shoulder, just to be sure the young woman was away. Then, he stepped in and approached Ethari, looking down at him with his intimidating cold eyes. “I would like to see the weapon you are preparing for her.”

Ethari frowned, confused. “I... I'm not preparing any...”

Runaan squinted his eyes for a fraction of a second. His suspicion was confirmed. It was enough, he did not need to know anything else. Still yet, something else bothered him, something else forced him to pry. “Oh. My apologies then, it seems... I’ve just interrupted something personal...”

Ethari blinked. “Eh?. Oh, no, no, no. Don't get the wrong idea. She would never look at someone like me.” He smiled as if his words were the most obvious and more natural things of the world, and took the whetstone to continue with his work, “Imagine that... the most powerful hunter of our own with our most useless member... that would be a shame, especially for the future offspring.” He knew about that firsthand.

Now it was Runaan who frowned, hurt immensely by those words. How could that man perceive himself as useless? Who was the only one providing weapons to the squads? But then, he remembered that secret he had heard when he was a child. The _family_. The _blood_. The _curse_. That strange concept that seemed to be a big stain in Ethari’s lineage. A mystery he had put aside for so many years, fighting against his own curiosity, but at the same time, knowing he had no excuses to ask about something so personal. After all, it was something that only concerned Ethari. However, it always came to his mind when Ethari’s eyes would look down, and his rich voice would be tinged with sadness and shame.

The silence filled with the sharpening sound of the stone against the blade lasted for so long that Ethari had to interrupt it. “You don't need to feel jealous.” He finally said with courage.

Ethari smiled at him in such a way, that Runaan's heart leaped in his chest. His breathing stopped for a second and a sudden icy fear contracted every inch of his body. He frowned. What was the meaning of that? He could not guess it. Was he hiding something even from himself? Was something so obvious for Ethari but not for him? A massive confusion struck him.

“I-- I’m… I’m not.. uh...” Runaan’s tongue got tangled.

“Because she is... interested in you. You are lucky.”

Ethari broadened his smile. But for some reason, Runaan could not see any glint in his brown eyes. The smile was warm and gentle, like all his smiles were, but something bitter was present in it. Runaan pressed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“But I have no interest in her.”

Ethari covered his mouth with a hand, fearing for having exposed too much of her. “Oh...”

Runaan rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything about your big mouth.” Runaan added, and unable to resist that awkward moment any longer, he turned on his heels and left the place.

“Wait… what did you-” Ethari said, but his voice trailed off… “-come for?”.


	4. Chapter 4

Years passed by calmly and their generation finally hit adulthood. With it, they gave the main steps into fulfilling their duties in the form of an eternal oath. Following the elders’ guidance, Tiadrin and Lain became soldiers of the Moonshadow Vanguard. They also announced their future marriage, taking advantage of the celebration of their oaths towards their duty to commit themselves. As it was expected, Runaan ended up becoming an assassin, qualified due to his deadly skills to the most dangerous missions. His ability to hide his presence and silence his steps were surprising, even for the most experienced assassins from Silvergrove.

During those years, Rhalis died, leaving the role of Master of Weapons to Ethari despite his incompetence with enchants. Ethari knew he would still need help most of the time from local mages to place the best enchantments in the metal. One day he would have to learn how to make them properly, but until that moment, he would rely on moon opals and extra tricks.

Finally, the day of The Passage came. It was the greatest celebration in the life of every Moonshadow, a day from which they would embrace adulthood, leaving their childhood behind. Wearing their white ritualistic clothes with a white ribbon in their horns, they performed the calm dance under the full moon. By the end of the ritual, the ribbons fell on the ground, turning into ashes, as their white clothes became green or purple according to the nature of their heart. From that moment on, those years spent in training themselves to become useful and honourable to Silvergrove and the Dragon family reached to an end, and now they were going to serve their respective duties.

After the ceremony, the celebration proceeded normally, with random dances in groups, drinks, and food, everywhere along the cheerful paths of Silvergrove. Lain and Tiadrin invited Ethari to join them in a corner of the celebration, close to the Assassin's pond. They waited for Runaan too before raising their cups filled with fermented berries. They sat on the grass and spent the rest of the night enjoying the festive mood of the village.

Ethari took the opportunity to give Lain the small box commissioned to him a week ago. It contained two pairs of beautiful scaled ambyths(*), the ornaments that couples worn at the base of their horns to emphasise their commitment. It was a custom to use one of them for a short time before marriage as a symbol of engagement. For this reason, and taking into account that they were going to marry in several days, Lain considered suitable to use the ritual of The Passage to ask Tiadrin, once again, if she wanted to marry him.

Of course, she accepted, and eagerly Lain jumped to hug her, tripping in the way and falling over her. The movement was so brute that the box was catapulted into the air. Ethari did his best to save it from the fall but he tripped with the entangled couple and tumbled over Tiadrin.

"Nothing personal, Ethari, but this is about Tiadrin and me. It doesn’t include you." Lain said after a heavy _oof_ escaped from his lips at the heavy dead weight of his friend over them.

Watching his friends' uselessness, Runaan graciously caught the box in the air, laughing at the mess they were. Everyone sighed in relief seeing the box safe and sound in Runaan's hands. Denting those marvellous ambyths could be considered a bad omen beside ruining the celebration.

Slowly, they lifted from the floor, knelt on the grass, and prepared for the small private ritual they were going to perform. Ethari and Runaan remained as witnesses of the process.

“Would you accept the light sides of me as well as the darkest ones?” Tiadrin asked holding an ambyth before Lain.

He smiled tenderly and bowed resting his forehead on the ground, the humblest of all gestures that an elf does in their life. “I do.” He said.

She slid the ambyth along his left horn. The process was repeated by Lain soon afterwards. The ambyths left in the box were going to be placed in their other horns during the ritual of The Asking, the big day of the marriage. Looking at one another’s horn with glossy eyes, the couple smiled for a moment, and then hugged, emotional by finally wearing the symbol of their love.

Clapping softly, Ethari was as happy as the couple, finding enjoyment in their love, but Runaan was odd. He had always been aware of the relationship that his friends had, so it was only natural to expect this resolution eventually. But somehow, the weight of the commitment so tangible in that pair of ambyths surprised him. He stared at the remaining ambyths in the box. They looked too _heavy_ for him. Incredibly heavy.

Noticing that strange change in Runaan’s mood, Ethari asked touching his forearm lightly. “Runaan? Are you okay?”

Runaan blinked and observing the mild worry in their friends, he forced a smile dismissing the soft tightness in his chest. But the thought of heavy ambyths remained in the back of his mind.

At midnight, when the celebration turned into a big dance spread all over the village, most of the recently new adults started to dance in groups or pairs, with the exception of Runaan, who preferred to remain in the calm spot they had been during the whole night. By his side, drinking more fermented berry, Ethari cheered the dancers.

“You can go to dance. Don’t mind me.” Runaan said drinking from his cup, a bit bored of the long ritual.

Ethari wanted to, but he did not want to leave him alone. He smiled at him mischievously, “Unless you share a dance with me…”

Runaan rolled his eyes. Ethari had been asking him to go dancing the last hour every five minutes. Those fermented berries were reaching his head, it seemed, “You know, I don’t dance much.”

Ethari frowned and made a ridiculous serious face. “You did. Hours ago.” He said crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Runaan simply averted his eyes. They had danced at the beginning of The Passage, it was true, but that was the mere formality. It did not mean that he liked it. “It bores me.” Runaan finally said.

“A pure Moonshadow elf? No way! What a shame!” Ethari’s voice became high-pitched to increase the mockery of his words while placing his hands on his own cheeks overacting his fake surprise.

Runaan raised an eyebrow and pretended to be offended, but that façade lasted a second. He chuckled at Ethari’s ridiculous voice.

After a long moment of more silent drinks, both of them spotted their recently engaged friends. They were dancing so happily among the rest of the people, lost in their own world, lost in each other’s eyes. A bit of their cheer was infected to them, and while watching them dance, Ethari and Runaan could not help but smile.

“I can’t believe it.” Runaan spat out.

Ethari softly clapped several times. “It’s amazing news. And not surprising at all. For how long they had been together?” He asked genuinely curious. After all, Runaan was the one who had known them for longer.

Runaan looked up at the moon and hummed, forcing his memory, “I don’t know, we were children when I met them and they were together already. Unbelievable.”

“Aw, that’s romantic. Their love of their life… since children. Aww.” Ethari raised his brows slightly, touched by the tenderness of that simple love story. But when he looked at Runaan, whose eyes were still fixed on the sky, he could see a shade of sadness washing his friend’s face. That was strange. Runaan had turned better and better at hiding his emotions over the years, or at least, at reducing their diversity. He only showed what he wanted to. But somehow, in that particular moment, Ethari thought that the man was not aware that had let his wall fell down completely. “Aren't you happy for them?”

Runaan blinked in surprise and snapped his head to Ethari, “No, no. It’s not that… it’s.. I…” Runaan sighed loudly. “I don’t understand them.”

“What?”

“How can you give a promise that you cannot keep?”

Ethari’s soft smile disappeared immediately. “Oh…”

He had never thought about it. His life was so calm and far away from any danger that the idea had never crossed his mind. But it was true. A fighter’s life, whether as a Vanguard or an Assassin, tended to be short. There was always some overwhelming mission or fight or war that would end up being too much for them. That was also the main reason why so few Weapon Masters existed among the Moonshadow elves… it was rare that fighters could live long enough to age and became one.

“It takes greed to ask someone to choose you knowing that you would probably die young. And you would betray your promise.”

Ethari’s eyes shone sadly and fell on the cup filled with berry juice in his hands. Runaan was so serious about promises and duties. “I suppose your partner would understand. It’s not like a betrayal on purpose. More like an accident anyway.” Ethari said looking at Lain and Tiadrin in the distance; they were kissing tenderly under the moonlight in the middle of dance. “But wouldn’t it be worth it? As long as it lasts.” He said in a whisper, almost ashamed.

Their line of sight was interrupted by Dalemy, dancing with Merk, a young man that was training to be a mage. Ethari smiled, trying to lighten his mood. “Well. It’s good to see that she got over with your rude rejection.”

Runaan just clicked his tongue. “I don’t know what she was expecting.”

Dalemy had used the incoming celebration to ask Runaan about his feelings. The man had been so horrified by the idea, that he blunted out what was in his mind, terrible honest things about her that she took as an offence. The event had happened in Ethari’s workplace, so he had been witness of such disaster.

Ethari looked at him directly, a gentle scold transparent in his face. Runaan rolled his eyes at him.

“Did you apologise to her for being so rude?” Ethari said.

“I have done it. Just because you told me to do so.”

Ethari hummed, “Good. Rejecting someone doesn’t mean that you need to destroy them.”

“I see how destroyed she is…” Both of them looked at her exactly in the moment she kissed the mage. A kiss too passionate to be faked. “She will never recover from this wound, I see.” Runaan said in his most acid tone.

Ethari chuckled and looked at him hitting his shoulder softly. “You are an asshole.”

Runaan laughed too and drank from his own cup. He discreetly looked at Ethari, trying to catch a bit of that beautiful smile. It was a gesture that always made him feel calm. He hated to waste any opportunity to see it. But when the moment of cheer finished, and the topic they had been talking about a moment ago returned to his mind, his voice became darker.

“Now we are adults. Have you given a thought to start a family?” Runaan said, hiding his uncomfortable face in the long sip he immediately took.

Ethari laughed softly looking at the dancers, avoiding Runaan’s eyes. “Who would dare to start one with a lesser linage like mine? I'm useless...”

Runaan gulped his drink and looked at him directly. It had been so many years with that mystery flitting around Ethari’s figure. He needed to know what truly was all about. “Lineage? what is the problem with your lineage?”

Ethari snapped his head to look at him, pressed his lips in a thin line, and looked down. From an instant to another, his smile was gone. “It’s shameful.”

Runaan snorted, trying to make a light joke. “What? Did you come from humans?” He chuckled. But the stoic silence of his friend made him stop immediately. He opened his eyes widely, and looked at Ethari, observing how the comment had hurt him deeply. Those brown eyes fell down to the ground and they did not dare rise again. “What?” Runaan’s voice came out as a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a bit of panic.

Ethani did not said anything. His eyes became smaller as he winced, trying to avoid Runaan’s worried look. He felt _so_ ashamed.

“It is a joke, Ethari.”

“It’s not.”

Runaan scratched his head. “But it makes no sense. Millenia have been passed since humans and elves lived together in Xadia… and even so… could they have families?” Runaan frowned, now more worried about his own ignorance. Could humans and elves have common offspring?.

“When the Border was not created yet, mixed families existed. They used to be called _family of diplomacy._ ” Ethari drank a bit more juice to have enough courage to continue his story. “Humans were always belligerent creatures. Even when the dark magic did not exist yet. They were always trying to fight each other or any other creature.”

Runaan snorted. “Of course, _humans_.”

“That’s why these families became pacifists and their main skill was diplomacy. They developed the arts to soothe wrath. Nowadays they are extinct. They came from families between elves and humans. Nothing better to be part of both sides to be the shield that protects and connects them.”

“Wait, are you saying… these families were human?”

“Part human, part elf.”

“Can they?” Runaan joined his both index fingers, hitting them side by side.

Ethari looked at him and smiled at the worry transparent on Runaan’s face. “ _They can_. Or at least, they could in the past.”

Runaan whistled with his eyes open wide and deeply disturbed. It was obvious he was having unpleasant mental images. “But you don’t look human? Wait, is your uncle human or something of the like?”

“No. These families were split after the Border was created. The mixture faded over generations. Still small differences may appear. They inherit uncommon features or skills. A human member from this family branch may have slightly pointy ears, a strange shade of their skin colour; rarely, four fingers.” He moved his hand elegantly.

“And the elven family of that branch?” Runaan asked without malice, but the question made Ethari look down immediately.

“The other way around.” He looked at his fingers resting on his lap. Slightly shorter for an elf. Slightly thicker.

Only then Runaan understood. That could explain Ethari’s unusual constitution. It was not a big difference to make him a completely anomalous elf, but if one observed him with detail, it was clear. Or maybe he was talking about more hidden differences?. “Uhm… I don’t know if this may be relevant to you… but I tell you, you _don’t_ look human in the slightest.”

Slowly, like a scared bird, Ethari lifted his eyes and smiled, grateful for that comment. Then, the sadness came again. “But I have human features.”

“Mnn, no. No. Not that I can see… unless…” Runaan scanned Ethari’s torso, going down, until his eyes went further his waist and averted his gaze from him, uncomfortable. The thought that had crossed his mind became more disturbing than he had imagined. He was not sure if it was due to the presence of a hidden human feature or the sudden curiosity about Ethari’s naked body.

The awkward silence lasted for a while until Ethari sighed loudly. “I thank your kindness, but there is nothing to do. No elf would like to risk having a… human-like child with me.”

“One of your parents did.”

Ethari shrugged, “My mom. She was always particular. But… you see?. She is a decent mage, yet, I have almost no magical skills. I can't heal if we are wounded. I can't fight if we are attacked. I can't build cities full of protective enchants... I can't craft decent weapons with strong magic attached to them. I fail in helping our people with this weakness. I don’t want to give this burden to another little one.”

Runaan observed Ethari’s hands while listening to his lament, serious. “You are far away from being useless. Your weapons are the ones that keep us alive. They are key to us, to all the fighters, to the assassins. If your blades break, if your bows fail... we are all dead.” Runaan took one of Ethari's hands and turned it upside to observe his mistreated palm. He touched the callus at the base of each finger. “These hands of yours are... your magic.”

They looked at each other intensely. Ethari blushed almost imperceptibly, then he blinked and swallowed a sudden rush of heat that had been trapped into a knot at his throat. “Wow…”

Realising he had overstepped the limits, Runaan let that hand fall and looked aside, trying to focus on the dancing people around. “My apologies, I think I overshared my opinion. Speaking of weapons... when should I come back to recover mine?”

“Uh?” Ethari blinked, confused by the abrupt change of topic. He still could feel the heat in his cheeks and the burning in his throat. “Um...Tomorrow?... tomorrow...”

“Good.” Runaan stood up and nodded at him. “Well. I shall retrieve them tomorrow. Good night, I shall rest.”

“Good… night.” Ethari whispered, looking at his palm. A silly smile curved his lips.

* * *

It was going to be the next day. His first mission.

A huge troop of humans that had been seen settling in the mountains, close to the Border far South, trying to enter Xadia by sea. By the way they had attacked the Ocean elves, they were violent at sight. Moonshadow intel claimed they were humans from Neolandia, one of the most violent Kingdoms from the West. Their mission in Xadia was unknown, but that lack of information was not going to stop the elves. Whatever they wanted to do in Xadia was evil for sure. The only thing that truly mattered was the strict protection of the Dragon King and the Dragon Queen, whose offspring was going to hatch sooner.

Maybe that was the true reason why these filthy humans were there. To hunt down the dragon egg. To use the pureness of its nature for their twisted magic. But they, the Moonshadow assassins, were not going to allow it. His group was gathered in a circle, pressing their fists against their chest and repeating at unison: _For the King, For the Queen, For the Prince_.

The older Assassins of the group wrapped their wrists with a long white ribbon and made an oath to protect the Dragon Royalty before human threats. Runaan observed the binding band at his own wrist and wrinkled his nose. Filthy humans. All liars, all evil.

He had trained all his life to be the dark invisible hand of the Dragon defences. Far away from the front line, but always attacking the enemy first or cleaning the remnants of what the vanguard had left. He had been fed since a child with all the dark emotions and hatred towards humans in order to build up some kind of unbreakable resolve. Now that training was going to be tested.

This was his _first_ mission. He could not fail. He had to perform it perfectly. This was going to be his _first_ take. The _first_ time his hands would be soaked in warm blood. He was now an adult. He had to face it. Yet…

Yet...

Yet… there was something in his mind and body that made him feel like a child. Something that he could not put into words but it made him nervous. All that anger could not soothe the strange sentiment that was strangling his chest.

The last night before the mission, instead of resting properly, he walked to the Lake of Laments, and contemplated the reflection of the moon on its surface. He thought the image would calm down his unsteadiness, but it only made it worse. Lost in a trance of thousands of unanswered questions, he let his body decide where to find some peace of mind. His consciousness awoke in front of Ethari’s workplace. The long stair crawling up around that tree was all that separated him from that calming smile.

He felt dirty, unsure, strange. He climbed the tree and reached the window of Ethari’s room. He looked inside distinguishing a relaxed figure turning over its bed. Was he sleeping? If that was the case, it was going to take ages to wake him up. His heavy sleep was famous in all Silvergrove.

Runaan knew this was stupid, but he could not stop the movement of his hand. That undescriptable sentiment was controlling his body, as if he were possessed. He hit the glass softly, and the man sleeping in that bed startled, jumping a little, grabbing the blankets around him. The gesture was emphasised by the perplex blinking of those brown eyes that were now fixated on that dark figure crawling on his windows. Ethari did not move at all, prisoner of terror.

Runaan frowned at first, surprised of that reaction. If Ethari had awakened so soon it meant he was not sleeping at all. Then, he rolled his eyes. “It’s me, Ethari. Open the window.” He said, hitting several times the glass.

Only once he recognised that voice, Ethari sighed in relief. He moved his hand suggesting Runaan to turn his face around and let him go out of the bed without his inquisitive eyes. A bit ashamed, Runaan did so, wondering what Ethari had to hide… until the comment during their adulthood celebration came to his mind for a brief moment. _Ah_. It had to be _that_. The thought lasted until the window opened.

“Runaan... what's happening. You should be resting. Tomorrow is the mission, right?”

Runaan did not know how to answer that. He was not sure what he was doing there either, so he averted his eyes, looking at a corner of the room. There, he spotted several metal flowers on the table, glowing faintly under the moonlight with the soft effect of a recent enchant on them.

He wanted to give an answer to that question, but he had none. Somehow, he had reached that window expecting to find some there. Why couldn’t he sleep? Why was he wandering in the middle of the night? Why had he reached this place from all the other? No answer came to his mind. His lips twitched nervously.

Observing every detail transpired in that face, that small tic at the corner of Runaan’s eye, the slight separation of his lips, a knot in his throat; Ethari tried to find the answer by himself. Deciphering that code was not easy. A face like Runaan’s, trained to stay hard and stony, was a hell of a challenge. But after that long silence, he spotted it. He could see it. And the answer, despite being obvious, was shocking.

Runaan was just… scared.

Surprised, Ethari knew it was impossible to say that aloud. It was betraying their training, their own beings. Moonshadow elves know no fear. Or at least, that was what they always had to repeat to themselves even though the reflection of their emotions were saying otherwise.

Wrapped in that mantle of silence, Ethari touched Runaan’s forearm, still on the border of the window, and smiled at him. “Want some tea?”

Runaan nodded stepping inside the room.

Everyone knew Ethari was deeply fond of tea, and he could be found drinking one at any time. The best tea of the day was always at night. He used to say that moonlight added a clean shade in the flavour of the herbs. But it could just be a mere excuse to invite his loved ones to midnight tea sessions.

They share a hot tea under the moon, both sitting on the border of the window. Since he had arrived, Runaan did not speak a word. A lugubrious silence persisted in the air. Ethari could feel the tension in Runaan’s lean body, the stiffness of his fingers around the tea cup, the heavy swallow in each sip, the frown on his face.

Ethari was worried. Runaan could be in dire danger going to a mission in that state of mind. But again, how could he say it? It was impossible. That was a taboo topic that would only offend him.

After placing the teacup on its sauce, Ethari looked at Runaan and spoke only when the other man looked back at him. “I... I think I know what you feel. And I think it's only normal. Your shoulders are carrying the weight of the world. If there is some way to soothe your pain... your…” He stopped, unsure. But he frowned, feeling a bit rebellious against that silly rule “...fear. Just tell me.”

He expected Runaan to be angry or, at least, aggressive at that insinuation, but instead, his face winced and his eyes become teary. Ethari had never seen him like that. For the first time in his life, he was seeing a Runaan unable to keep the appearances anymore. Unexpected as his cracking demeanour, Runaan suddenly lent on him looking for an embrace that, of course, Ethari would not deny. Runaan’s arms slid over his shoulders, wrapping his neck and hiding his face on Ethari’s side.

Without hesitation, Ethari hugged him as squeezed as possible with his strong arms. He even dare to gently scratch Runaan’s scalp, while the scent of his hair reached his nose. Soft essence of herbal leaves. Only then, the greatest of the fortress fell down, and Runaan cried. He cried out of fear and nervousness and unfairness. Receiving all that pain, mirroring his friend, Ethari could not hold a couple of tears that escaped from his own eyes. The link to that man was strong, and his despair, this deep fear to face a duty that was going to ask too much from him, somehow, reached Ethari too. So they cried silently, under the moonlight.

After a long moment of holding each other, Runaan drew back, sniffing a bit, and wiped out his tears to immediately look down. A deep sentiment of shame tinged his attitude.

“You did nothing wrong.” Ethari whispered.

That soft gentle voice gave Runaan enough courage to look at him once again and smile. A sad, tired smile. A smile of a resigned fate.

“Thank you, I needed this...” He said.

Ethari reached out for the long lock that was covering part of Runaan’s face, and moved it to see those turquoise eyes, “Let me help you with this weight on your shoulders. You will feel lighter, at least for a little while. Never doubt it.”

Runaan’s eyes observed every corner of that face that was smiling so gently and worry at him. His eyes could not stop aiming those lips as a tight knot was strangling his throat. What was all that?.

The charm was broken when Ethari wiped with his finger a couple of tears that were still falling along Runaan’s cheeks. He drew back a bit, confused, and looked far away at the sky, at the moon.

“You are always free to come here so we can drink tea and forget what’s important. At least, for a little while.” Ethari whispered once again.

Runnan looked down at the pond and jumped off from the border of the window, disappearing among the shadows of the night.

* * *

The next day, Runaan and five assassins stood in a row in front of Ethari, close to the pond. This was the first time that Ethari had forged and enchanted the assassin flowers alone since Rhalis' death. The old grumpy man was not by his side anymore, checking his work and pointing out his mistakes before turning a piece into waste. So, he was nervous, wondering a thousands of times if the enchantment on them was going to last long enough.

His thoughts stopped, however, when the ritual started. He gave each of them a flower that glowed at the touch of the assassin's fingers. When it was Runaan's turn, Ethari could not still his pulse making the flower tremble slightly on his hands. The man he was facing was nothing like the one he had seen the previous night. Runaan's eyes were now cold, and a soft frown turned his face into a grave hardened gesture. An unbreakable determination was written all over it.

He approached Ethari and nodded at him, respectful, extending his hands to him in order to receive his flower. The touch of their fingers in that moment was short but charged with too much wonder that had been left suspended between them during the previous night. Or at least, that was what they believed in the loneliest corner of their minds.

With the flowers floating on the magical pond, the assassins left the place without looking back. It was only Ethari who remained there, in silence, observing their figures leaving Silvergrove. His attention drifted to the pond, on a particular flower, and sighed. It was done. Now, he needed to wait for their return.


	5. Chapter 5

The mission was supposed to last six, but after a week had passed, the only thing that they received was a greyhawk - a magical arrow - with a new message from the Dragon King. The group of assassins that had taken care of the intruders in the South Border, now had to go into human lands and kill several military ranks of Neolandia in order to put an end to their apparent plan of invasion. The mission had been changed radically.

From that day on, the first thing that Ethari would do at the beginning of each day was to observe that flower. Its gentle glow would help him to fight the unsteadiness growing in his chest, but he knew it would never last for too long. The dark sentiment looming over his mind would add a tightness in his fingers that not even forging would get rid of it, and the thoughts of thousands of potential tragedies crossing his mind every second were starting to make him question things that he did not want to acknowledge.

Some things were better not to ask.

Despite trying to keep his stressed mind under control, Ethari was failing. It was in the gossip carried by the wind. Most people in Silvergrove noticed it. Specially Lain and Tiadrin. It was too obvious not to see it: Ethari's smile had withered.

“Are you okay, Ethari?” Tiadrin said that evening, placing her hand on his back when the hammer slipped out from his palm and fell on the ground. She and Lain kept visiting him almost every day under silly excuses: an enchant going weak, a new weapon they wanted him to design, a deep maintenance of his old swords.

As worried as Tiadrin, Lain stopped focusing on some blueprints spread on a table and looked at Ethari who was squatted to get his hammer.

Ethari sighed. “I am. I’m… just… a bit anxious.”

“Why?” Tiadrin said.

He winced, “Aren’t you?” he took a seat and drank from the bottle of water he had on the table. Then, he rested his elbows on his thighs and let his head hung for a moment, feeling the stretch on his nape. “It’s been almost a year.”

Lain approached him, a calm smile on his face. “Your flowers are floating.”

“What if the enchant was disconnected from their souls. What if I made them wrongly. I mean… They are my first flowers… and I thought it was going to be a week… they were enchanted to last for a month. But it’s a year already. _A year_. How long is this mission supposed to last? How many changes will it have?” He hastily spoke, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

Thankfully, Lain and Tiadrin were not part of the Assassins but the Vanguard fighters. Their incredible talent had made them earn the duty of Dragonguards; a role that they still needed to train for. According to their estimations, in five years they were going to complete it and leave the Silvergrove to defend the Storm Spire, East of Xadia. The King and the Queen needed them to protect their future heir.

Despite those news being good, _that_ was part of the many disturbing thoughts that kept flitting around Ethari’s mind day and night. His friends were going to leave eventually, and he was going to remain behind, alone, forging the tools that kept throwing them into bloody battles. It was a tiring cycle without end, and there was nothing to do about it. That was the most disturbing thought of all.

“Your flowers are fine.” Tiadrin said. “Neolandia is far West into the human lands. That’s too far away from here. It takes too much time to travel.”

“But we did not receive any news yet. No sign of mission accomplished. Or failed. Nothing.”

“Your flowers are floating.” Lain insisted, rubbing Ethari’s back to bring him some comfort.

Ethari sighed and took another sip of water.

With a mischievous smile curving her lips, Tiadrin looked at him “You care too much for him.”

“Of course I care. As I care for you two.” Ethari looked down at Tiadrin’s still plain belly, and a faint smile appeared on his face “Three.” He corrected himself.

Tiadrin chuckled and caressed his cheek. “He is going to be fine, just be patient.”

* * *

Out of the blue, cheerful screams and claps could be heard close to the entrance of Silvergrove. With the passing seconds, more and more people gathered there. The turmoil caught Ethari’s attention, who until that moment had been hitting a folded bit of metal on itself with an enormous hammer. He approached the window of his workplace and looked into the distance at what all the fuss was about. A group of people in dark clothes were entering the Silvergrove.

His heart stopped for a second. It had been a year and a month.

He rushed down the stairs from his workplace and ran to the entrance of the village. The crowd was around the new incomers, so he had to push among the others to finally reach them. It was six of them, the same six that had left the Silvergrove a year and a month ago. Two of them needed another person to walk, and another had been wounded seriously, but all of them were alive. _Alive_.

Ethari felt his heart return to his chest when he saw Runaan once again. His clothes were bathed in blood, he had lost weight, and his face had dark circles under his eyes. There was a nervous tension in his demeanour, a more pronounced tic in his eye, and a prominent limp in his walk. Both of them looked at each other in the cheerful atmosphere and took their time to react. Maybe they were not recognising each other after so long... or maybe--Ethari feared--they were scared to confirm what had changed in that time.

But at least, he was alive.

Ethari made an effort to smile at him, a gesture that destroyed any intention in Runaan to put distance between them. His icy eyes softened, and limping, he approached Ethari.

“It’s so good to see you alive.” Ethari whispered. His voice quivered out of emotion, and his eyes shone as a preamble of some tears that he could maintain under control.

Runaan did not say anything, he only nodded, tired, exhausted.

By a corner of the bustling place, Tiadrin and Lain appeared. Lain hugged Runaan with too much care, not minding the blood everywhere in his clothes. Tiadrin simply patted his back heavily and Runaan winced.

“Ah, finally, you asshole. You left us all worried for so long.” She playfully kicked his damaged leg, just to annoy him.

“Ouch. Stop that.” He frowned at her.

She chuckled all bare teeth.

“Why you didn’t send us a message, something? We were worried sick.” Lain asked once the initial intensity of the reunion eased off.

Runaan was going to explain it, but unintentionally he looked at Ethari for a fraction of a second, and then his sight fell down on the ground. That gesture and Runaan's silence spoke volumes for Ethari.

“Uh… we didn’t have much time with the troops… and…the attacks, and the hiding … The lack of sleep. There were many things.” Runaan said.

However, his explanation did not satisfy Ethari, who extended his palm to him and asked firmly despite his eyes barely holding back threatening tears, “Give it to me.”

Everyone looked at him, surprised by that hard tone. Runaan looked aside again and remained silent.

“They didn’t work, right?” Ethari asked.

Runaan looked at him for an instant, his lips ready to give any excuse, but he could not find any. His exhaustion made it impossible. He lowered his head again, while Tiadrin and Lain looked at each other, confused.

“What didn’t work?” She said.

“My message arrows.” Ethari finally concluded. He let his hand fell to his side and clenched it into a fist. “My flowers required a lot of my ability for their enchants. I miscalculated it. I did the arrows at the last moment. The weakest enchants were placed on them. I’m so stupid.” He covered half of his face with a hand.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t be so hard on you. They came back alive!” Lain said, patting too strongly on Ethari’s back that pushed him against Runaan who caught him despite the pain on his body. He was not going to let him fall on the ground, and Lain knew it. Runaan and Lain shared a brief visual contact that was a mixture of doubts and playfulness.

“Yes. Do not worry about that.” Runaan said as he helped Ethari to recover from those powerful pats. “Your weapons were the ones that kept us alive. If something had to be weak, it had to be the arrows. I’m grateful for that.”

Ethari faked a smile for such kind gesture but he shook his head. Nothing had to be weak, they were risking their lives using objects that they could not rely on. Runaan had always been too gentle with his mediocre skills.

“Well, stop the brooding now. We need to celebrate this!” Lain said, grabbing Tiadrin by her shoulder, “What if we celebrate tomorrow night?”

“But no fermented drinks.” She said patting her belly as Lain kissed her cheek, closing his eyes in a sweet manner.

Runaan frowned at her and looked down at her belly. He was not getting the meaning.

“Oh, it’s true. You missed the news.” Ethari said by his side. “A new friend is coming”.

Runaan blinked at her, surprised. Then, his eyes went onto Lain, “And is it yours?”

Everyone made an uncomfortable wince and looked at Runaan in disbelief.

Ethari hit him softly on his head. “What kind of question is that?”

Runaan shook his hands “Uh… I’m… I was not implying _that_. It’s just… a big surprise… you two.. parents? Oh Moon, poor child.”

Lain swatted at Runaan’s head but this time he dodged it. However, he could not avoid Tiadrin’s fast kick which softly hit his limping leg again. Runaan yelped.

“Don’t think you two are going to be free of this child.” Lain said with a big malicious smile on his face.

Ethari and Runaan raised their eyebrows not sure how to understand that threat.

“We discussed this for a while and we think that... you two are going to become this child’s godfathers.”

“Really?” Ethari’s eyes shone so much that Runaan, at the sight of those brown gems, could not say anything for a second. He was too focused on that face, watching that smile and eyes that he had missed so much. But then, when Ethari looked at him with that glint in his eyes, expecting to share with him his enthusiasm, Runaan looked aside. He was not… who used to be. And that was something that nobody knew yet but himself.

“I’m not sure if I want to.” Runaan said. Something darker and serious hardened his face. “If what the elders told me is true, you two are going to leave in a couple of years.” He looked straight at the couple, his eyes colder than they used to be, “...your child should stay with him.” His look returned to Ethari “You are more suitable for a kid. I’m just an assassin. Nothing lasts much in my hands.”

His grim comment change the mood of the atmosphere immediately, turning everyone a bit darker.

Realising he had made a mistake, Runaan scratched his neck and looked aside. He should not have said such terrible words after such great news. “Uhm. I’m sorry. I need to rest and take care of my wounds. So… tomorrow night is the celebration?” He said with his eyes on Tiadrin, serious, struggling to change the atmosphere back to its light cheerful mood.

“Yes. We’ll wait for you.” She said, her voice tinged with a small pinch of sadness and worry.

Runaan nodded, tired, and left the group. Ethari offered himself to help him, but Runaan gently rejected him. He simply walked alone to his house, far away from the entrance of Silvergrove. He did not turn back neither awaited the elders to give him some final words. His friends observed his limping figure until their line of sight was finally blocked by some houses. Then, they looked at each other, enduring an uncomfortable silence settled among them that contrasted too badly with the cheer around them.

“I suppose… it is just natural. This was his _first_ mission. A very long first mission.” Tiadrin said.

Ethari nodded and looked at the ground. This had been his _first_ kill. Probably _Kills_. Many in a single row, in a single big mission that had changed its goal midway, that had lasted too much for a novice. Obviously, Runaan was not in his best state of mind to receive news of life.

* * *

Ethari had not seen Runaan for the whole day. A quick visit to the Silvergrove moon druid calmed him down. According to her, Runaan had been sleeping all day and his wounds--the most prominent one in his limping leg--were not reason to worry. He had received a stab in his thigh, and it had cut the muscle so that his walking looked painful, but it was nothing that resting could not heal.

This was going to be his _first_ scar too. In his _first_ mission, with his _first_ take.

Considering that Runaan could be bored of being in bed, Ethari took a tea box where he placed all the needed elements to prepare tea and put some blueberry cookies in that he had been practising for a long time to make for Runaan. After so much blood and violence, a bit of sweetness and peaceful tea might help his mind heal. Or at least Ethari wanted to believe so.

Carrying the box, Ethari crossed the Silvergrove and reached the faraway accommodations used by the assassins. They were always at the extreme ends of the village, as silent defenders of the place. The assassins' houses were small domes too, separated from one another, emphasising the lonely sentiment they inspired.

Careful not to wake him--in case he was sleeping--Ethari slid over the entrance of Runaan’s house and put the tea box on a nearby table. The dome-house had no divisions, and combined a simple low table with a simple bed in the same room. The only room.

Despite the penumbra, he could see a soft movement --up and down-- in the long figure resting on the bed. Ethari smiled. The atmosphere felt so calm. A bit lonely, but calm. Curious to see how Runaan’s sleeping face looked like, he approached the bed walking on tiptoes. Stretching his neck to see over Runaan’s shoulder, Ethari observed that relaxed face for a fraction of a second. But only for a second. A fast twitch in those sleeping lips broke the charm.

Runaan awoke violently, wide open icy eyes and contracted pupils, shattering the tranquillity of the moment. His sinewy hand grabbed Ethari’s throat and rolled with him to the ground. Ethari fell on his back heavily, strangulated, grabbing that cruel hand that was denying him air. In another fraction of a second, Runaan’s free hand found a dagger behind his pillow and pressed it against Ethari’s cheek.

“Filthy humans. Liars. Liars!. You all, die!” He kept whispering as if it were a demonic mantra.

Ethari tried to speak, but it was impossible with his strangled throat. He could barely breathe. So he took Runaan’s wrists and squeezed them with all his raw strength. Feeling the pain, Runaan hissed and after some seconds, his muscles gave up. The pressure on his wrists made his fingers twitch and numb. It was enough for giving Ethari the air he needed so he could scream desperately.

“Runaan!, It’s me! Ethari!”

Runaan blinked. The name had hit something inside his mind. His pupil returned to normal and he could finally see Ethari under him. Ethari’s hands were like claws around his own wrists, the pressure in them was overpowerful. His dagger was beside Ethari’s throat. Shocked by the meaning of it, he gasped, drawing back his whole body and hitting his back against the border of the bed. He rubbed his face, terrified and ashamed for what he had done.

More relaxed, Ethari sat on the ground and coughed. Slowly, he approached Runaan and placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine.” He whispered.

The other elf looked up at him and shook his head slowly, wincing. “It’s not. I almost… I…”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Runaan rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his palms again. Nothing was fine. Nothing. “Don’t sneak around me, never again. Please.” His hands were shaking.

Despite the penumbra, Ethari could see some spots of blood on Runaan’s thigh. The wound had been reopened. He rubbed that shoulder for a moment, letting the silence put things in its right place, if that was possible inside Runaan’s mind. He did not need to ask, it was more than obvious how that mission had imprinted a mark on him.

“I’m sorry.” Ethari started, letting the back of his fingers caress Runaan’s jaw. “I’ll never do it again. I just thought about bringing in some tea and cookies. They taste better under the moonlight. It’s been a while.”

That calm voice put more order in his thoughts than the whole day of resting. Runaan raised his eyes and lent a little bit into the fingers that were still caressing his jaw. Such a soft touch despite the roughness of those hands. He needed that kindness after the long hellish nightmare he had been awoken from. A flickering smile curved his lips. It looked like another tic, an involuntary reaction to stress. He needed to ask for help, but somehow, his lips remained sealed twitching in hesitation. But it was Ethari. He had already read him, and without any warning, he got closer to him and hugged him. A squeezed warm hug that let his tortured sigh come out from his chest.

“Remember. Leave that weight on your shoulders outside, I am here.” Ethari said.

“Yes.” Runaan whispered, tightening the embrace. “I want nothing more than _that_.”

Ethari rubbed his palms on Runaan’s back and welcomed the fall of that wall as Runaan finally cried on his shoulder. With gaggled voice, confused memories, and deep pain, he narrated scraps of the nightmare that had lasted a year. A horror tale with a field covered with too many bodies. A river of blood. The slaughter of families in calm towns that begged him for mercy. A mercy he did not have. A mercy that was now catching up to him.

The Dragon King had not only commanded them to kill soldiers or the highest ranks of the army while sleeping in their beds. He had ordered them to massacre their families as well.

_Let no one alive for them to take revenge. That is the best way to put an end to this madness._

The narration turned Ethari's blood into ice.

"But the order... it was the order. It was the mission. We had to kill the children. They... begged me for mercy. They were always begging me."

Tortured by Runaan's impossible concordance with his actions and his emotions, moved by the tale of blood and cruelty he was narrating, Ethari cried with him.

* * *

The Silvergrove retook its normal rhythm after a couple of days since the return of the Assassin group.

Ethari was in front of the pond, gathering the flowers of the survivors, removing their enchant and leaving the metallic skeleton clean once again for a future use. When he took Runaan’s, he could not help but contemplate it on his hand.

All the assassins had come back alive… but none of them was the same one that had left the Silvergrove a year ago. They had changed. Deep scars marked them now, not only in their skins. Their eyes had turned colder and the hardness in their faces had been accentuated. It was understandable. A young, recently promoted group of assassins that had been sent to do a short mission had to change midway and head into human lands without the true preparation that an operation of such magnitude required. It was a miracle that all of them had returned alive. Maybe it was due to the presence of Kyl--the oldest Assassin of the Silvergrove and Teacher of the Assassins candidates--that all of them had survived. But still yet it was a miracle. He had gone to that extremely complicated mission accompanied by five novice assassins that had never taken a life. So many things could have gone wrong.

Ethari caressed the flower feeling an emptiness grow in the solitude of his own thoughts. He remembered that night after Runaan’s arrival. He could barely believe it. The King’s orders had been incredibly cruel and extremely calculated. Ethari had the slight suspicion that the King changed his order in the last moment not by chance. The King knew this group was compounded of novice assassins that, like most Moonshadows, were bound to duty. They would never dare go against him, they were too eager to please him. It was their first mission, their first service to the King. It was a sentiment easy to exploit. Too tempting. No matter the order, they would have never question him.

 _It is duty._ All of them had repeated many times during their lives. Elders and adults and children. All of them with a sense of duty that, sometimes, it looked like madness. To have purpose, to accomplish an objective, to honour a duty. It was all what elves knew. It was all what elves were.

Ethari frowned feeling a bit dirty for such inquiring thoughts. But he could not help it. That concept had always been a sore wound in him. Being a talentless child had made him grow into a duty-less elf. His journey to find purpose had not been easy. And even when he found it, it felt weak, even lesser. Like all things in his life.

 _Duty_ was always that thing he wanted to have; that thing he never could reach, because it was always associated with talent and power, and he was the owner of none of them. So this weak connection with such commanding word allowed him to have a good margin for questions which, most of the time, were trapped in the silent reflections conceived beside the forge. Questions that made him understand that, maybe, _duty_ was a convenient key to use for control. A powerful means to keep throwing elves to suicidal missions without making them question, to keep pushing children into dark paths of horrors and blood. And what for? To protect a royalty that was not always as kind as it claimed to be. But it did not matter. Those contrasting facts were always covered with the heavy silencing mantle of their _duty_.

It was also hard to complain about the way things were since humans kept feeding the cycle either way. He extended his free hand in front of him and looked at his slightly short and thick fingers. _Humans_. That painful use of the concept of Duty had a cause. A cause called _Humans_. It was needed in order to keep at bay these chaotic creatures.

Maybe he was thinking too much.

He sighed worried about Runaan. He could think and question all what he wanted, but Runaan would always be loyal to that concept, to the King. And now more than ever. His identity had been forged inside that concept. Nobody liked to survive hell just to destroy the foundations of their own identity. Especially when such a bloodshed had been spilt.

“What are you doing?”

Ethari jumped, startled. His knees hit the border of the pond and he dropped the flower in it, sinking down immediately. Unbalanced, he was going to follow it, but a hand grabbed his forearm and stopped his fall. He snapped his head to look at the man who had given him the fright of his life.

“Do you want to kill me?” Ethari said.

Runaan blinked and then half-smiled. It was not a genuine smile. He had lost that one. “We are even now.”

Ethari shook his head and watched the pond. After a moment, the flower surfaced again, so he took it, removing the enchant. Then he looked at Runaan. His eyes were opaque and despite the wound in his thigh, he still could walk without making the slightest sound. It was as if he were unable to separate that training from his relaxed self, safe at home.

“Do you need something?” Ethari said, calm, gathering the other flower skeletons that he had left on the ground. Runaan helped him with some of them, and both went upstairs. Once they stepped in Ethari’s workplace, they placed the flowers in a corner of the weaponry room.

“I need to ask you about an unusual request. It must be kept as a secret.” Runaan said in a serious tone.

Ethari raised his eyebrows and listened carefully, observing every detail of Runaan’s face, wondering if he could read a little bit more of what he allowed to transpire.

“I need you to make me two pairs of ambyth.(*)”

Ethari opened his eyes wide and his lips separated a bit out of surprise. It took him two seconds to have a reaction. “Oh...um… wow. Did you find someone?”

Runaan did not look at him. He just remained there, stoic, averting his eyes, “I'm not sure yet but... I shall see.”

Ethari smiled. “The baby news got you all soft suddenly?” He poked gently on Runaan’s shoulder expecting a smile from him. However, the other man only looked at him with those new grey eyes that strangled Ethari’s smile.

“Keep it a secret, please.” Runaan frowned slightly.

More worried than threatened, Ethari nodded. “Sure. Some particular design?”

“Simple.”

Ethari looked down. _Simple_. For a _fighter_ or another _assassin_. Ethari must have imagined that such a thing was going to happen eventually. Those missions were too isolated. They allowed them to share strong experiences in needy situations. It made them spend too much time together. It is well known that proximity always brings some degree of intimacy. And this, sometimes, makes love bloom. He tried to be happy for him, someone had got his interest, finally. It was good news, Ethari repeated to himself. Over and over, without truly believing they were so good.

“When do you need it?”

“Next week. Is that reasonable?”

“I’ll do it .”

Runnan nodded, and with a soft goodbye, he left the workplace.

Ethari’s smile lasted a bit longer in the middle of the silent room, and a soft shaking affected his fingers. He had to be happy for him. He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

Since the first mission, Runaan had changed. It was not a secret; everyone knew it. But they preferred to look aside, to ignore the deep scars that this mission had left in these new assassins. It was much better to justify it. Sacrifices of few had to be made for the rest of them to live in peace. That was always a common saying in their schools. A saying that Ethari started to question too.

Assassins took their enemies’ lives, but they were also sacrificing their own. Nobody was the same after their first take. In some sense, all of them killed their old selves in their first mission. It was, after all, an assassin’s _duty_. Killing themselves in order to kill others.

Thanks to Kyl's narrations, everyone knew Runaan had performed a spotless role during the whole mission. The survival of the group had been guaranteed due to _his_ presence besides Kyl’s. Apparently, he had assassinated entire towns in a single night so their group could travel safely through the lands. Despite the fancy words and the epic tones that Kyl used in order to describe that mission, for Ethari it was just a fairy tale full of lies. He knew the truth. Runaan had vomited it that night, shattered into thousands of pieces, unable to find peace, trapped in the middle of an endless fight between the actions that cannot be undone and his consciousness.

It had been a merciless bloodshed. There was nothing epic or fancy in it. In reality, it had been madness. A big price to pay for the King’s whims.

As soon as Runaan’s thigh healed, new missions were assigned. Thankfully, these new ones were shorter and could be done quickier. The perfect job done by Runaan allowed him to escalate too quickly inside the Assassin's hierarchy. To have survived the first mission had granted him a golden fame. And the success of the following missions only kept adding more prestige to his reputation. By the end of the year, he became leader of the Assassins, replacing the old Kyl in the field.

Everyone clapped at Runaan's success. Everyone but Ethari. Nobody knew that after each mission, Runaan would look for Ethari at his workplace, and would leave that big responsibility outside that house so he could step in and cry on his shoulders, disarmed and weakened. Day after day, Runaan was becoming grayer and darker, and Ethari could do nothing to stop it. Only delaying that withered fate by sharing such a big weight and allowing Runaan to fall into pieces in his friendly arms.

The last mission of the year had been qualified as a dangerous one. Without Kyl, a group of seven assassins were sent under Runaan’s command. So far Ethari knew, it was a cleaning mission in the far North of the Border, where a big group of dark mages had been spotted capturing magical creatures to supply their stocks.

It was a mission that required a couple of days to be accomplished, but it had been a month already and no message of any kind came to Silvergrove during that time. Something had gone wrong. Ethari knew it before anyone else when he spotted only three flowers floating on his pond. It was a relief to see that one of them was Runaan’s. But there were no doubts; that mission had been a disaster.

The return of the group had no cheerful screams. Runaan entered the Silvergrove carrying an unconscious fellow, still alive but his eyes lost in darkness. The mages had drained part of his magical essence and despite being alive, something was amiss in him. The other survivor had lost a hand. Runaan himself had acquired several scars on his torso, and a dangerous injury right below his heart. Ethari almost lost his soul when he saw it. A festering wound made by a weapon imbued in dark magic. It had been so close of Runaan’s heart.

The Moon druids could not heal the survivors easily. They had to call some skywing mages that could do the work.

Part of the cause of this failure had been the weapons. They were too old, and the enchants in them too weak against the potency of Dark Magic. But it was not as if it could have been prevented. The unpredictable nature of the human Dark Magic made the selection of weapons a difficult one per se.

Ethari promised to deeply study the foundations of the Dark Magic to make a new set of weapons suitable to fight it. A good weapon for each assassin and fighter. The strong enchants that were needed on these weapons could be done using the help of the Skywing mages. It was the best that Ethari could do for now.

That was how Ethari started to spend most of his time in his workplace, studying and designing a unique weapon for each combatant of Silvergrove. He had decided not to be the cause of any other loss due to weak blades.

For Lain, he crafted a dual chackram-daggers that could be used as a chain with claws as well as a dual lance. For Tiadrin, he made a masterpiece that he had been working on for more than a year; a long sword that could change into a fragmented whip.  
And for Runaan, he had finally finished his most ambitious weapon: the dual blades that could be joined into a bow with a string made of the strongest spell of air that a mage could manage in order to shoot arrows faster and longer. The presence of the Skywing mages allowed him to finish such an ambitious piece of masterwork.

That early morning, Runaan appeared in Ethari’s house. Unaware of his light steps, he entered silently and found the man sleeping on his workbench. Ethari was bent on a blade, his head resting on one of his arms, the other extended on the table with a hammer softly grabbed by his hand. Runaan caressed Ethari’s long fringe that was covering half of his face and combed it to clear his cheek. The tickle made Ethari move a little bit, but he remained asleep. It was well known what a heavy sleeper the weapon master was.

Runaan could see dark circles under Ethari’s eyes, and a twitching muscle on his forearm, probably as a consequence of overwork. He removed the hammer from his hand carefully and saw some spots of blood on its handle. He frowned. Softly, he extended Ethari’s fingers and observed the mistreated palm. They were incredibly hardened by now, and yet still, despite the thick skin and calluses, several blisters were there, and one of them had dried blood on it.

For an unknown reason, he got curious of the true texture of Ethari’s skin, so he touched one of his uncovered shoulders, following the pattern on his marks. Then, he rested his hand there and unable to control his impulses, he moved his thumb, savouring the soft texture and the hard muscle underneath. It was so different in comparison with his hands.

Suddenly, a rush of heat, a forgotten sensation, raised along his body to his face. The feeling was not completely strange to him, but it was a surprise to see that he had forgotten about it. His hand caressed Ethari’s neck and raised to his angular jaw, touching it with the back of his fingers. He felt a bit dirty for doing this while the man was so deeply lost in the world of dreams, but he could not help it. To observe that face, so close and without the fear of being discovered, was too tempting to let it slip away. Runaan lost track of time observing those lips slightly open, and the calm movement of Ethari’s chest with each breath.

It was _beautiful_. Truly _beautiful_.

Ashamed for those thoughts and for his invasive touch, he cleared his throat and shook Ethari’s shoulder softly. The man did not even move. Frowning, Runaan shook him stronger and stronger, until Ethari's forehead slid along his own arm and dropped on the hard surface of the table with a hollow sound. A hiss of pain escaped from Runaan’s lips and he looked at him worriedly, expecting the man to move. But no. Ethari only grunted and moved his arms around his head to get comfortable on the workbench. Impatient, Runaan started to use ruder methods: he pinched Ethari’s cheek, pulled some locks of hair, use his own hair to tickle Ethari’s nose, and patted him strongly as Lain used to do. After a long moment, when he was going to give up, Ethari moved again.

With a long whining grunt, Ethari lifted from the workbench without elegance or swiftness. Sleepy, he straightened his back and several crackling sounds echoed in the silence of the place. He scratched his head, yawning, and looked around until he focused on Runaan. He frowned a bit. “What are you doing here?”

Runaan raised an eyebrow. This man was unbelievable. “ _You_ asked me to come.”

Confused, yawning again, Ethari rubbed his face and forced his memory to work. “Ah, it’s true. Sorry. I hate falling asleep.” Runaan chuckled, it was hard to believe so.

Ethari stood up from the stool and made him walk to the next room, yawning continuously. He opened a weapon cabinet and took a couple of long daggers, extending them before Runaan.

“This is the weapon I’ve been working on for a while. It’s for you. I know I should have finished it months ago for you to train with it. I’m sorry for that... But…”

“Next mission will be in two months. It’s time enough to train with a new weapon. It’s fine.”

Unsure, Ethari looked at him with his squinted eyes, wondering if those words were truthful or just Runaan’s usual gentleness towards his mediocrity.

Runaan did not wait for him to drown in self-loath any longer. He took the blades and a gentle rush of power from them was shot into his arms. This weapon had one of the strongest enchants he had felt in all his life, and it was a moon enchant which empowered his natural abilities. The most surprising fact of all was that, with no doubts, it was made of Ethari’s power.

Runaan blinked at him, surprised at first, and then frowned. “Did you enchant these?”

Ethari smiled and the gesture made Runaan’s eyes fall down to his lips instinctively. That _kind_ smile.

“Yes. It's the reason why it took me so long. For a blade to be strong, it had to be folded under its own million of times. That’s the foundation of blacksmith. I thought in doing the same with an enchant; thousands of times enchanted over itself had to make it stronger at the end. It seems it worked.”

“It... certainly did. '' Runann looked at the daggers. They felt as if he were under a permanent full moon.

“And it’s not only a pair of daggers. Look…” Ethari's hurt hands caressed Runaan’s accidentally when he took the blades from him and put the handles together. A click sound jointed both handles to form a bow. Out of the blue, a tense string appeared at the extremes. “Our mage guests helped me with this string. It’s made of sky magic, and it will shoot the strongest and fastest arrows you can imagine. I couldn’t do it by myself.” Ethari looked down for a fraction of a second, and then at Runaan with half smile, “I’m sorry.”

Runaan snorted, observing those warm brown eyes, speechless.

* * *

“Bring some hot water!” A moon druid shouted out to another at the frame door of Tiadrin and Lain’s house. The other rushed into the centre of Silvergrove.

It was already night. The waxing moon was at a corner of the sky full of bright stars.

Runaan was sitting on a rock close to that house, a dagger on his hand, spinning in the air and passing from one hand to the other. By his side, as nervous as impatient, was Ethari. Sometimes sitting on that same rock, other times walking around. He wanted to be the first person to see the baby after their parents, but the waiting was killing him. Druids went out and came in from that house, informing him that Tiadrin was still labouring the birth, while Lain, by her side, kept panicking.

“What do you think it will be? a girl or a boy?” Ethari said scratching some callus on his palms.

Runaan shrugged. “Too young to know.” With the point of his dagger made some light touches on Ethari’s wrist to make him stop with that scratching. It was going to hurt his blisters on them.

Ethari smiled. “We are going to be godfathers. Aren’t you excited?”

“Certainly.” Runaan said looking down with a tired voice.

Ethari did not ask about that. It was easy for him to read. The missions had only turned Runaan’s personality darker and darker. The motto of the assassins had sunk deep in his soul: _harden your heart enough to do whatever it takes_. Maybe it had hardened him too much. And it kept doing it. Ethari was worried for him, and frustration filled his soul. He was a useless witness of that unstoppable process. But it was just how things were going to be. Becoming a messenger of Death broke something in Runaan. Something that he was not sure it could be fixed someday.

Unable to control his nervousness, and since Runaan had stopped his nervous scratching, Ethari started to move back and forth. Runnan’s face became tight.

“Stop it.” Runaan said.

“You are too silent, I can’t hold myself in this situation.”

Runaan snorted. “Well, let’s talk then, just stay in one place. You make me nervous now.”

Ethari smiled. “Fine, fine.” He sat again on the rock by Runaan’s side, and both looked at the sky. The moonlight felt good on their skin.

“So... What is it on your mind?” Runaan said.

Ethari sighed deep and loud. “All this situation made me think about many things. I was imagining a day like this, but instead you here, inside there.” He looked at Runaan with a goofy smile, waiting for his reaction, but the comment only made Runaan rise an eyebrow. Ethari twisted his lips, unsatisfied with that. So he pushed it. “I remember I crafted you a pair of ambyths months ago. How did that go?.”

Runaan half smiled, but he remained silent, his eyes stubbornly fixated on the sky. It was so obvious Ethari wanted to pry.

“Oh, c’mon, _that_ makes me more nervous.” Ethari said, poking gently Runaan’s shoulder with his finger.

Runaan chuckled and looked at Ethari for a long moment, their eyes locked on each other, silent. “It didn’t work.” He finally said.

Ethari’s curious eyes changed into a soft shade of sadness. “Why? Rejection?”

“No.” Runaan surveyed the sky again, fleeing from those beautiful brown eyes before they could trap him. “I’ve changed my mind. I didn’t even try. I'm an assassin.”

“And what with that?”

Runaan shook his head. “No. I can’t ask them. It’s not fair. It’s greed. I’m a messenger of Death whose life is destined to be shorter than any. I only can promise them grief.”

“The day you fall,” Ethari took his time to ease the knot in his throat, “your friends will suffer too, but that didn't stop you from having some, right?.”

Ruaan half smiled. Ethari was so sharp. “It doesn’t matter. A hard mission is coming. No time for those things.”

“Maybe it’s when those things matter the most.” Ethari looked down at his boots and moved his toes inside them. Leaving things unspoken were a burden to carry. “I know it’s selfish, but... I think you should know…. well… I've been thinking for a while… and accepted it as a fact ... that...Um... your presence leaves a wake behind your steps… which is hard for me to ignore.”

Runaan took a second to understand the meaning of such shadowed words, and when their true nature was revealed, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. However, he did not turn his face to him. He did not want to fall. He had been fighting against it for so long. He just needed to avoid those eyes, those lips smiling nervously. He said nothing, trying to stop the collapse.

But the damned, stubborn, soft Ethari continued, “I appreciate our friendship, but I think... my heart has been slipping away from my chest every time you go to missions, and it hides... in your hood.” A deep tortured sigh escaped from Ethari’s chest. “I know it's foolish.”

“Why?”

“Because I know it’s impossible... “

“And why is that?...”

Ethari looked at him more puzzled. “Are you mocking me? Don't ask me _that_... it's more confusing.”

The angst in Ethari’s voice tightened Runaan’s chest. He did not want to fall, to catch the illusion of something that he was longing for years. But he could not help it. He turned his face to look at him, knowing he was giving the first step into his doom. But that voice, those eyes, those lips.

Their eyes locked intensely, sometimes moving to each other’s lips. None of them made a first move, but the truth was more than clear in the reflection of their pupils. Ethari shook his head almost imperceptibly and spoke. “You need to find a suitable partner. A useful one, one that can bring pride to you with their contributions to the King, to the Queen, to Xadia.”

“I'm proud of your craftsmanship.”

“Any human can do that.” His response came too natural, too fast. Only after a moment he realised what secret meaning hid Runaan’s words. Ethari shook his head more energetically. “No, no, no, no. You can't. Runaan. There are dozens of wonderful people out there waiting for your attention...”

“My attention is already focused.”

Ethari blushed enduring the heavy intensity of those turquoise eyes on him. He swallowed hard, uncomfortable. Since the situation was torturing Ethari too much, Runaan looked up at the stars again. They took a break in the bitter silence that had been raised among them.

“It’s my fault, right? I dragged you into this...” Ethari said looking at the ground.

“Nobody dragged me into anything. _This is not new_.”

Ethari snorted, “I don’t think so. I’ve been… pushing you since a couple of years...”

Runaan half smiled and rolled his eyes. “Naive.”

Slightly frowning, Ethari snapped his head towards him, “What? Are you telling me this is older for you?”

“I can’t be completely sure… but… I assure you it is as old as when we were children.” Runaan shrugged.

At first, Ethari blinked surprised not only by the comment but also by Runaan’s rare straightforwardness. It was unbelievable to listen to him this way, but it was the truth. There were no doubts in those words. So Ethari smiled, blushing. “You are such a fool.”

Runaan looked at Ethari, a deep shade of sadness turned his turquoise eyes into a dark blue. “I suppose. I didn’t want this to happen...but I’m tired now. I can’t hold it back anymore.”

The wince in Ethari’s face, the sweetness and pain with which he looked at Runaan made their eyes acquire a trembling glint.

Ethari whispered, “You never had to.”

After a soft nervous snort, Runaan took enough courage to thumb Ethari’s cheek and allowed his body to approach his. Their eyelids fell and they moved to get that longing kiss. However, they had to stop midway. A powerful baby scream broke the silence of the night and shattered their mood into an uncomfortable bliss. Both of them looked into each other's eyes, confused, as if they had just awakened from a dream. They were so close that they were sharing their breathing.

A druid appeared at the frame door and shouted out. “It’s done! You can come see the new family!.”

Both cleared their throats and straightened their backs as a soft blush coloured their cheeks.

“We have a new friend to see.” Ethari said, breaking the suspended moment with his kind voice, now softer than ever. His smile was radiant. And Runaan was at his weakest. He always turned weak before that beautiful warm _kind_ smile. Ethari took his hand without any other warning and pulled him down from the rock, heading into the house.

* * *

They found Tiadrin exhausted on the bed but smiling. Lain was sitting on the edge by her side, holding the baby wrapped in soft blankets. Ethari made a long squeak and a strange sound with his throat that surprised Runaan who frowned at him, wondering what kind of creature he had turned into. Beaming, Ethari took the baby in his arms and started to talk in his softest caring voice. The baby fixated her huge purple eyes on him and laughed. He made more of those squeaks that caused the baby to burst into more and more laughs. They kept feeding that cycle of weird sounds and laughter to no end.

Runaan smiled at him and his friends recently turned into parents. Then, curious, he looked at the small creature in Ethari’s arms. Her laughs stopped short at the sight of those turquoise eyes and she observed Runaan in silence as a soft frown appeared on her face.

Surprised by the intense fighting of gazes between those two, Ethari approached Runaan with the baby in his hands and invited him to hold her. Runaan frowned at him, unsure, but Ethari’s insistence forced him to do so.

He took the baby, those big curious eyes never averting his own. And then, in just a fraction of a second, the baby smiled at him. He blinked in surprise, and a surge of warmth wrapped around his soul spreading it all over his body. Impossible to hide it, he smiled her back, and for a long while, both remained in their own trance of mutual silent fascination.

“What’s the name?” Ethari asked to the parents.

“Rayla.” Lain said.

“So you are Rayla." Runaan said in a voice that none of them had ever heard, tinged with kindness and warmth. "Nice to meet you, messenger of Life.”

The little baby did a sound like a giggle and then laughed with a squeak similar to the ones that Ethari had been doing before. All those festive noises coming from a little creature dragged an enormous smile on Runaan's face.

In that moment, Ethari saw something in Runaan’s eyes, something beyond the tears that he barely was holding. That darkness that had been lurking around him since he returned from his first mission, that crack that was slowly extending all over his soul, _stopped_.

In that moment, Runaan was saved.

They left the exhausted parents with their baby after a couple of hours. The short walk to Ethari’s house was sunk in silence, each of them too deeply lost in their own thoughts. Their footsteps stopped at the pond, and both saw the reflection of the bright moon on its surface. A mutual unspoken desire made them stay there, sitting on the edge of the pond. The whole experience had been too demanding for both, and still yet, they had something else to talk about. Something that had been put aside due to Rayla’s arrival.

The words did not come easily to any of them. They were too nervous and emotionally worn. But did they need words?. Ethari extended his arm, his palm suspended in front of Runaan. The assassin looked at its hardened and coarsed skin, and then at Ethari’s warm eyes.

“Is that a no? Or do you prefer a softer hand? In that case… bad luck, the other one is worse.” Ethari said before the lack of any reaction coming from Runnan and showed him the other palm. A long blister was extended at its bottom.

Runaan chuckled. “Your hands are fine… it’s just…” He sighed as his sight fell on the ground.

There was so much surrender in Runaan’s eyes. He was tired of holding back, of swallowing all his personal desires. It was so easy for Ethari to read him now. Rayla had taken many of his walls down.

“My hands always drip blood.” Runaan finally said.

“I know.”

Runaan shook his head even so lightly. “It’s so unfair for you…”

“Don’t choose for me. I saw you at your weakest, without regrets. These hands still want to hold yours. Hope you don’t forget it.”

“Never.”

Runaan’s fingertips caressed that hard palm, hesitation still present in his movements. Then, he wrapped that hand with his own and kissed its knuckles, one by one, gently. Ethari approached him, releasing the contact to slide his hand on Runaan’s neck. He closed his eyes and kissed him. A soft, long lasting, trembling kiss.

“Do you want to come home?” Ethari whispered when their lips parted.

Silent, Runaan opened his eyes wide, and a surge of terror and surprise transpired on his face.

“It’s okay. Fine, fine. Don’t panic.” Ethari spoke quickly, patting Runaan’s chest, quite surprised by his own eagerness.

“Let’s just give this some thought.” Runaan whispered, uncomfortable, looking at the ground and at Ethari constantly, as a soft colour spread on his face. “In case you regret all this…”

“I won’t. I never. But.. yes, let’s go slowly.” Ethari whispered, smiling in that way that made Runaan so weak.

And there it was again, that _kind_ smile, that childhood smile that had been by his side during all his life. Runaan could not hold it back anymore. He did not _want_ to hold anymore. He lent on him and kissed him again, this time deeper, hungrier, full of passion. Ethari slid his hands along Runaan’s back as Runaan did so with his own under Ethari’s top, greedy to touch that skin. A surge of heat filled their veins so violently that the kiss escalated too fast. Their bodies compressed against each other, not a hint of fear tinged the mood. Ethari’s hands nailed into Runaan’s hair, pulling him closer to make the kiss deeper as he could feel those hands caressing his bare shoulder blades.

Seconds later, taking control of his own mind, Runaan decreased the intensity of the moment and pushed Ethari away, gently. The kiss was broken, their breathing became heavy, their faces, redder. With a last sigh, Runaan stood up and thumbed Ethari’s cheek. He tenderly smiled at him, touched by that beautiful expression on his face. He left a last peck on Ethari’s lips and after whispering a _good night_ close to his ear, he went away.

Ethari covered his lips with a hand, still tasting Runaan’s intensity, and smiled. Now it was more obvious than ever that he wanted to be by his side. He certainly did not need to give more thoughts to it.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, they went to visit the new parents again. Better rested now, the four of them spent the day together, observing every little movement or gesture done by the baby, celebrating them, and talking about future plans. 

Tiadrin had been allowed to have some months of resting before reincorporating herself to the missions, but Lain had to return to the frontlines as soon as possible. The son of the King of Neolandia had taken violent measures after the massacre done by the assassins in his Kingdom. It was an expected revenge, after all. In the following month, Runaan was going to join them in a shadow troop whose main goal was to clean the battlefields to help the frontline in order to win more easily. It was clear that this war was far from over, and the future was dark, as it usually was since Xadia has been broken into two.

Ethari asked them to stop talking about military strategies and war in front of the baby. There was so much blood dripping across every crack of their lives that they did not need to push the topic into Rayla’s life yet. There was going to be a lot of time for that. The comment, even though it was not intentional, hurt everyone a little bit. Especially Runaan, whose vision became unfocused while observing Rayla, and the memories of the atrocities that happened during his first mission tormented him in the isolation of his mind.

To soothe the mood, Ethari opened the box of tea he had brought and poured a sweet blend in four cups. With the atmosphere lighter, Lain asked Ethari to take care of Tiadrin and their baby during his absence. Giving his word, Ethari accepted the task gladly. 

When the day finished, Ethari and Runaan left their friends’ house, walking in silence under the moonlight. In front of Ethari's house, their steps stopped and a heavier silence filled the air. Runaan awaited looking everywhere except Ethari’s eyes. His behaviour was evasive. 

“Are you okay?” Ethari finally said, a bit impatient with his attitude. 

Runaan scratched his own forehead, unable to keep the eye contact. His cheeks were covered with a soft blush that the moonlight could not hide. It was as if he were ashamed for something. Speechless, Runaan nodded. This was even more uncomfortable. Ethari headed to the stairs of his house and looked back. Runaan was not following him neither going away. He tilted his head.

“Runaan?”

His name in that sweet voice made him snap his head towards him, a meter up away from him. His turquoise eyes shone in a way that suggested he was expecting something. A command, an order. Ethari frowned, retraced his steps and approached him, placing his hand on Runaan's forearm, running down to reach his hand.

“Speak your mind. I can't read it.”

Runnan sighed deeply and found courage to look at him. The eye contact was truly hard for him to keep. “I was... expecting the same invitation of yesterday.”

Ethari blinked. Then, a mischievous smile curved his lips. “I see you gave it some thought.”

Runnan pressed his lips in a thin line and smiled, a mixture of shame and eagerness. “I did.” 

Ethari chuckled, pulling Runaan's upstairs. “My house is now yours.”

They barely made it to the room. Among kisses and soft noises of lust, preamble of something that both had been desiring for so long, Runaan smashed Ethari’s body against a wall and devoured his mouth desperately, licking and kissing his neck while pulling his scarf away. Repressing some moans and the sudden tension of pleasure, Ethari removed Runaan’s clothes to touch easily his bare torso. He wanted to continue with his pants, but Runaan’s belt got stuck. Losing his patience, Runaan separated their bodies for a moment to get rid of it by himself. 

That break gave Ethari a moment of consciousness to pull Runaan once again in the direction of his room. Runaan sat Ethari on the edge of the bed and straddle him to pull his short tank top over his head and removed his loosen sleeves. He kissed Ethari’s bare chest with devotion while releasing his waist of that high belt. Pushing Ethari’s shoulders towards the bed, Runaan crawled over him as his long white hair fell by a side like a thick curtain that gave them a unique privacy. They kissed deeply again, breaking the contact to only breathe a little bit. 

Sitting on Ethari’s groin, Runaan pushed his own boots one against the other to remove them. The hollow sound of them hitting the floor tensed Ethari. In a fraction of a second he remembered  _ it _ , and a sudden terror tensed every muscle of his body. Runaan blinked before such change and stopped caressing him. 

With a trembling sigh, Ehtari lifted his torso a little bit, resting his body weight on his elbows, and looked aside. Now Runaan was worried; something was wrong. He left Ethari’s lap and sat by his side on the edge of the bed. Ehati lifted completely and hunched his shoulder when he rested his elbows on his own knees. He looked afraid. His hair was already a mess and by the dark marks on his neck, it was more than obvious that he was going to need to wrap his scarf too tightly in the following days. 

Concerned by that stubborn silence, Runaan caressed Ethari’s cheek and moved his jaw to force him to look at him. “Did I do something wrong?.”

Ethari had turned serious and shook his head softly. “I forgot about  _ it _ for a moment.” His words made Runaan frown. “We need to talk.”

They got more comfortable on the edge and sighed. Runaan was patiently waiting. 

“...Did you remember… that time ago I told you about my.... old lineage?”

Like lightning, the memory fell into Runaan’s mind suddenly. Yes, he remembered that day, the words trailed off, the silences, the gaps that he had filled with strange ideas. Like that time, Runaan looked down along Ethari's muscular torso and observed his groin discreetly. Was this the moment in which he was going to tell him that something was wrong there? It seemed that his supposition had not been misplaced after all. But… how different could it be?. 

Runaan tensed a bit. “Is this about the human features? “

Ethari nodded. “This ashames me. I’ll understand if you think it's gross, or even monstrous.”

Runaan widened his eyes.  _ Now  _ he was worried. What humans had  _ there _ ?. “Do you think we should take it slowly?.”

Ethari nodded.

“Fine… should visual inspection be the first reasonable approach?”

Ethari blushed and his eyes blinked out of nervousness, looking aside. His fists were clenched on his thighs, wrinkling his trouser. “Even though I want this so much, I understand if you need time to get used to… if you ever can. Maybe… maybe you will feel so repulsed that.... Well. I will understand.”

Ruraan was certainly disturbed. He swallowed hard and touched Ethari's waist waiting for his approval once more. He slowly slid down the border of his trouser when Ethari frowned at him.

Thinking he had done, now again, something wrong, Runaan jerked away his fingers from Ethari’s trouser and looked at him with his jaw clenched. 

“What are you doing?” Ehtari said. 

Runaan looked aside, a bit confused with all what they had just talked about. “Visual inspection first?”

Ethari nodded, “Um. The boots.”

Oh. It was true. So focused on this supposed aberration behind those trousers that he had forgotten to remove Ethari's boots first. Runaan knelt on the floor in front of him and removed those boots with a relaxed  demeanour until the tension in Ethari’s leg felt like a rock. Ethari was struggling to  stay composed. Runaan frowned. Only then he noted that his feet were broader than usual. He saw the sockets and raised an eyebrow. He looked up at Ethari’s eyes, the tensed expectation had hardened his features. 

“Do it slowly.” Ethari said.

“Mn?” Runaan looked at those sockets and then at Ethari again, certainly more and more confused. Carelessly, he started to remove one but the movement made Ethari close tight his eyes and  squeeze all his body. When Runaan finally took off both sockets, he placed Ethari’s feet on his own thighs and looked up at him with a face mixture of annoyance and disbelief. “Was this the  _ problem _ ?”

Ethari could not hold the eye contact, his sight wander all along the floor. He moved his toes nervously and nodded frantically. 

“It is.” He said in a squeezed high-pitched voice filled with panic.

Runaan caressed the insteps of those dark feet and chuckled. Was this  _ the monstrosity _ he was talking about?  _ Five toes _ ?.

“Ethari, you are ridiculous. I was thinking  of something … gross. And of… colossal proportions and… somewhere else...” He laughed.

“Wait… what were you thinking about if it weren’t…. Oh.” Ethari blinked and joined his laugh. He hit Runaan’s head softly and then covered half his own face. “No, no, it’s not  _ that _ . Just imagine.”

“I  _ did. _ ” Runaan said opening wide his eyes in a more mockering gesture.

Both burst into laughter, relaxed. 

Once the atmosphere returned to a lighter mood, Ethari moved his toes nervously and asked him, “So… is it alright for you this…  _ thing _ ?”

“An extra toe means nothing to me, don’t worry, dear.” He said, inclining his body to leave a peck on Ethari’s insteps.

Runaan crawled again over Ethari removing their last pieces of clothing and sinking in the bed. They did not need to repress their raw desires any longer. Following the flow of their emotions, the situation escalated quickly among kisses and heavy moans that kept repeating each other’s names. 

It had been an intense, wild night. A lustful passion that had been restrained for years in both, and now it had finally found a satisfying relief under the moonlight. 

With their breathings agitated and their bodies soaked in sweat, Runaan moved aside Ethari, collapsing on the mattress and leaving his arms covering his eyes while his chest calmed down. Raising his knees a bit, Ethari moved the blankets quickly to produce a cooling air for their extremely heated bodies. He was also recovering his breath. 

After a moment, he stopped fanning and let his arms fell heavily on his sides and looked at the ceiling. The first thoughts that came to him made him twitch his lips. 

“I know… it’s a bit late to say this… Um… I  _ forgot  _ to say it... but… Um... That was my first time, Runaan. Or... well, maybe many first times.”

Runaan chuckled, still covering his eyes with his arms. “Mine too.”

“Really? Oh…” He let a hiss escaped from his mouth, “I forgot... the ritual.  _ We…  _ forgot the ritual of The First Time, then.”

Runaan shrugged. “Is that important?”

“Uh… tradition?”

Runaan finally removed his arms from his eyes and turned his head a little bit to see Ethari by his side. His face was completely red, and the sweet smile with which Ethari was staring at him, made it impossible for him to avoid his reply with another one. “Do you want to perform the ritual now?” Runaan asked.

Ethari eyes looked at the ceiling again, as if he were considering the option. “We need to get dressed up… I’m exhausted… better not.”

“Next time, then. We’ll do it next time. It’s not like anyone will know it, anyway.” Runaan moved lazily and kissed Ethari’s shoulder. 

“Oh… next… time….Uh.. so… I know it’s late for this too. I  _ forgot  _ to ask you, again… but...” Ethari’s words trailed off and a heavy sigh was released.

“Mn?”

“But…. this is not… a one time thing, right? I mean… I... “ Ethari bit his lower lip, as his voice cracked. He had  _ forgotten  _ to talk about that  _ too _ . Damned stressful distraction became his extra toe. “I forgot to ask you.. I’m sorry, it’s just...”

Runaan lifted over him again and caressed Ethari’s jaw, leaning on him immediately to kiss him and shut him up. When biting Ethari’s lips was sufficient, he looked at him thumbing where he had bit. “No. It’s not.”

Ethari sighed in relief extending his arms around Runaan who got comfortable on his side. His long hair, a mess by now, sticky on their bodies, was all spread on the mattress and blankets, and Ethari was sure some locks were tangled around parts of his own body he did not want to think about at that moment. 

With those small little worries vanished from his mind, both of them finally surrendered to tiredness and fell asleep.

* * *

Lain knocked on Ethari’s door several times but no answer came from it. This was not new. All Silvergrove knew that Ethari was a heavy sleeper with a terrible slow awakening. During the first hour after getting up he was a useless man until some tea reached his system, and a bit of movement put his blood in circulation. 

Like many other mornings since their teenage time, Lain entered his workplace without permission. As it was expected, the man was nowhere to be found in the main room. He rolled his eyes. What a lack of consideration from Ethari since the previous day he had emphasised him how important it was for Lain to know Tiadrin and his baby were going to be taken care of at the first hour in the morning. Sighing in annoyance, he went upstairs to Ethari’s room. 

He looked at the big ball curled on the bed under several blankets and shook his head asking for patience. 

“Hey, Ethari. Wake up. Need you with Tiadrin and the baby. I’m leaving.”

His voice seemed to have some effect since a piece of the blankets moved, remaining still immediately after. Ethari had probably opened an eye and fallen asleep again. Knowing this was going to be hard work, Lain approached the bed with heavy steps and tugged at the blanket. 

“Ethari. Wake up you lazy ass. Tiadrin needs--”

A red face with a pair of silent turquoise eyes stared at Lain. Unaware of the situation, Ethari was heavily sleeping in the curve of the neck of that redder face. Lain raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth with the intention to say something, but no words came to his mind. 

In his sleep, Ethari nuzzled that neck and placed his hand on that bare chest which displayed many lovebites everywhere. Uncomfortable for the sustained silence, Runaan look aside, and cleared his throat knowing he was beyond any excuse. 

Snapping out of the situation, Lain tugged back the blankets over them and retraced his steps making his voice clear, “Fine, fine. I- I’m sorry… didn’t know you two…um.. well, whatever. Can you wake him up? I'll wait downstairs.” Lain said and closed the door.

Runaan rubbed his face, embarrassed and annoyed by the heat on his cheeks. Then, he looked at the bulkier body by his side. Ethari was cuddling him so sweetly. He smiled observing those bare wide shoulders and kissed his messy hair. Ethari murmured something, rubbing his cheek on his chest and kept sleeping. His hand walked mischievously all over Runaan's waist and became steady once more. 

“Ethari, wake up.”

Runaan shook Ethari’s shoulder,  stronger each time, until the sixth time seemed to finally have an effect on him. He opened an eye. He hummed long and sustained and tried to go back to sleep again. Runaan sat on the bed letting Ethari fell on the mattress. Only then Ethari stretched his arms over his head and then cuddled Runaan’s waist. 

“Mnnn. Wasn't a dream.” He smiled, kissed the joint where the leg starts in the hip, and closed his eyes again. Runaan shook him. Again.

“Wake up, you need to go to Tiadrin’s. Lain is waiting for you. He saw us.”

Finally, Ethari seemed to wake and, laying on his back, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. Then, they looked at each other and chuckled. 

“ _ I forgot _ he always does that, too.” Ethari said.

“You have been  _ forgetting  _ a lot lately.”

“Don’t blame me.” Ethari chuckled lazily, lifting his body, and kissed Runaan who caressed his cheek.

“He is waiting downstairs.” Runaan said.

Ethari walked down the stairs and greeted his friend. Lain was already wearing a smug smile, observing with a mischievous suspicion the scarf around Ethari’s neck. It was tighter than usual. 

“I didn’t know you two were a thing…. why didn't you tell us?”

“We didn’t know either.”

Lain laughed patting Ethari’s back. “I’m happy for you two. And for me! This let me win a bet against Tiadrin.” He said rubbing his owns hands, savouring his victory.

Ethari yawned while preparing his box of tea to bring with him. “You were betting on us? About what?”

“Kind of. About how it was going to happen.”

Ethari raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “And what did you guess?”

“Me? That you two needed some kind of accident or big event, you were never going to talk to one another otherwise. Tiadrin put all the coins on you, that you were going to lead the thing. But I think it was Rayla who pushed you two.”

Ethari looked aside while remembering how things had happened and chuckled. “Well, she won in a sense.”

“Really? How can I trust your word?” Lain playfully looked at the stairs waiting for Runaan to appear, but it seemed he had decided to be there until their departure. “Meh. I suppose I can’t go up and ask him if that’s what happened?”

“I suppose not.” Ethari smiled, closing the box. “Let’s give him some time for himself. I think he needs it.”

Both left the workshop after Ethari shouted out he was leaving. A commanding  _ fine  _ was all what they heard before closing the main door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the notes only at the end of the chapter, please.

Lain left the Silvergrove and Runaan joined him a month later. With these long-standing emotions finally uncovered, the assassin's flower ritual had been incredibly hard for Ethari to perform. This relationship was not completely new. Nothing between them had truly changed much since that night. The only difference was that now his bed was not lonely anymore, and theirs distances were shorter than ever. That was the reason why this separation was going to be the hardest one to endure. 

With his normal attitude, Ethari had given their corresponding flower to every assassin, but his pretence failed when he faced Runaan. His hands trembled as he was captured by those turquoise eyes and those slender hands caressed his broad shoulders to give him some kind of assurance.

“Don’t worry.” Runaan had told him with the softest tone he had ever heard him to use. 

“My heart goes with you. Be careful.” Ethari whispered when Runaan’s hands slid down along his arms and took the flower from his palms, incapable of giving it by his own.

“I’ll take care of it.” Runaan smiled and kissed him despite the curious eyes of everyone. “Now I have my lucky charm. Don’t worry.”

When Lain returned five months later, he brought some news that granted a bit of tranquillity to Ethari’s mind. Runaan’s squad was considered invincible, too focused and determined. Basically unstoppable. The humans feared him by just looking at his rabid turquoise eyes glinting under the darkness of his hood. They had given a name to him: the monster shadow. 

But not only humans feared him. So did the elven soldiers too, especially when they saw him with his hood. They could not help but notice a disturbing switch in Runaan's personality. As soon as Runaan would wear his hood up on his head, he became a ruthless assassin who would not stop until finishing his mission. It was said that his eyes changed into predatory ones and his movements never displayed hesitation in that state of mind. It was as if nothing else but the mission mattered as long as his hood was up.

Somehow, Runaan had managed to split his personality into two radically different mindsets, and the one always present in battle was spectacular and worth fearing. Lain claimed that he had never seen him so focused and cold in his life. Certainly, Runaan was giving all the chills to both sides of the war. 

Ethari could not be sure if that news was reassuring, pitiful, or terrifying. It was, at least, enough to give him some peace of mind. Runaan was becoming a true master of the shadows whose expertise would always guarantee a safe return despite the disturbing echoes that his first mission had left in his mind.

When the time for the mission to be completed came up, a greyhawk appeared in the Silvergrove giving unexpected news. Kasef, the young son of the King of Neolandia, had faked retreat to strike back at the few Moonshadow squads left. He had not used a standard army but a group of dire Dark Mages. 

The strategy disconcerted the Moonshadows at first, since almost all the Vanguard had already returned to their homes by then; there was not going to be casualties in theirs ranks. But after thinking about it, that strange movement of the humans only could mean that such attack was aimed not to the main moonshadow fighter squads but those left in the shadows. The shadow troops. It had been pure strategy. Kasef knew that the most dangerous tool of the Moonshadows were their assassins, so he intended to get rid of them first. 

Waiting for the shadow troops to come back was torture for Ethari. He used to spend whole days observing the pond, his heart racing at the sight of any trembling or erratic movement of the flowers. Worried about him, Tiadrin or Lain would bring Rayla to soothe his nervousness and force him to be apart from the pond for at least a few hours. It was too much suspense sustained in time.

However, Ethari’s worst fears came true when two flowers sank. 

That nightmare he had lived months ago, when the assassin squad ended up heavily wounded, repeated itself once again. By the hours, flower after flower started to sink, and when Runaan’s did so, Ethari burst into tears, devastated. During a whole day, all those flowers remained submerged, making him lose hope in everything. But miracles sometimes happen. Two days afterwards, Runaan’s flower floated again, and the next day the rest of them followed suit.

At first, Ethari thought it was a mistake in his enchants, the magical tricks he had found to patch his weak abilities must have been failing. But when weeks later the Assassin squad returned to Silvergrove safe and sound, he knew it was something else. Something he never considered. Something he needed to work on. 

The reunion with Runaan was filled with tears and hugs. Ethari kissed him desperately and took him a while to calm down in Runaan’s arms. This was just a peek of what kind of future awaited him by Runaan’s side. He was conscious, more than ever, that many more nights ahead would be restless like those, wrapping his heart in worries while surviving anxious days and their looming threat of losing Runaan. And one day, one fateful cruel day, that particular flower would sink forever. He could not count on miracles too often. Clearer than ever, he realised that this fear was going to be his future from now on. It was the price to pay in order to be by Runaan's side. It was terrible, but he could not help but accept it. He loved Runaan, even when it meant to endure this kind of uncertainty and future pain. And with that sad resignation squeezing his heart, he embraced Runaan tightly, welcoming him once again. 

Later, after long extensive research among the members of the shadow squad, Ethari finally could figure out the true reason about the temporarily sunk flowers. It had been the effect of some spells performed by the dark mages which had interfered with his weak enchants, temporarily nullifying the link of the assassins with their flowers, and therefore, faking their deaths. 

Once the cause was known, he needed to find a way to fix it, since they could not rely on these flowers any longer if they were going to fail. The only way he found was to deepen his knowledge into the theory of Dark Magic. He needed to understand how it worked properly, not only what the rumours said, what every Xadian knew about it. It was the only way to strengthen his enchants to avoid that future glitch. 

To avoid any misunderstanding, Ethari requested the elders permission to acquire books of dark magic and to allow him to study it. His sudden interest in this forbidden magic caught the distrusting attention of the elders, who saw it as a danger. They denied the permission on spot. However, after weeks of sweet eloquence and detailed explanations of his goals on this matter, Ethari could finally convince them. 

"How can I prevent a problem caused by Dark Magic if I don't know how it works? My sole intention is to understand it, so my enchants can be crafted in a way to avoid the nullifying effect. It wounds me to think that you can suspect I could use another living form in Xadia to perform such evil magic. But if you need my word, I will give it to you. For my honour I promise to never use any other Xadian creature to such means." He stated in his favour, and somehow, his words brought some calm into the elders.

Reluctantly, they accepted his word and allowed the study of those human arts under the condition of doing it outside Silvergrove, and only after finishing it, Ethari had to bring them the ashes of the books so nobody but him could have that knowledge. Ethari accepted the condition, knowing it had been a tricky one. He had never slept outside the village, in a temporary isolated camp, and for an elf who had spent all his life in Silvergrove, that condition was hard to endure. Still, he had no other choices. 

Despite all the taken measures, Ethari could not control the whispered gossip that suddenly arose around him during those weeks of preparation. They were going to become wilder when he were outside the village, studying. 

Runaan never worded his opinion about this idea. However, it was transparent in his eyes the deep worry and a certain degree of judgement towards Ethari. He could understand the reasons behind that interest, but something unnerving in the back of his mind kept annoying him without stopping. He even offered himself to accompany Ethari to live in the open for as long as he required in order to study that damned magic. Sadly, his request was revoked by the elders. Mainly, because they knew Ethari was going to spend too much time, and the leader of the assassins could not afford the luxury of staying away from his duties for so long. And secondly, the elders truly wanted only Ethari to be exposed to that dark knowledge.

“I will be deeply worried about you.” Runaan said at the entrance of Silvergrove, checking Ethari’s bag one last time. 

“Now you are on the other side of the fence” Ethari chuckled, “But don’t worry. It’s for the greater good, you’ll see.”

Runaan cupped Ethari’s face with his hands and kissed him with all the need he could pour in it. Ethari smiled for a moment, eyes closed, even after the end of the kiss. 

“I’ll miss you, that’s for sure.” 

Ethari returned many weeks later, extremely wore-off, with black stains on his hands, his skin greyer, and deep dark circles under his eyes. He did not inform anyone about his return --even more, he did his best to keep it secret -- and locked himself in his house for another week. He only allowed Runaan to visit him and take care of him since the fever he was suffering from was hard to endure alone. 

Something terrible had happened, Runaan knew it the same moment he saw him. But he said nothing. He stopped his judgemental attitude, and without asking questions, he embraced Ethari and took care of him diligently, leaving his bed’s side only when assassin duties required him. 

Despite the secrecy, the elders knew about his return days later and summoned him in the council, but Ethari asked Runaan to buy him some time to recover by creating some believable excuse. 

"He is a man who has never lived in the open for so long and I believe he has exhausted himself to the limit. He is running a high fever and I'm taking care of him. Let me be in charge of him for a week, so he can recover properly. This is why I had offered myself to accompany him in this mission. He is not quite knowledgeable in terms of camping, I may add, and he may have fallen into bad habits that novices usually do." Runaan said before the council, without hesitation, heavily implying how much the elders were to blame for Ethari’s physical state. Seeing truth in Runaan’s words, the elders allowed that extra resting period before meeting him again. Of course, nobody was ever capable of doubting Runaan's words. 

After a week, Ethari got up from the bed, and even though he was still exhausted, the deep uncomfortable feeling inside him had diminished enough to let him walk properly. He met with the elders as soon as possible, as it had been agreed, and in front of them he emptied a vase with the books’ ashes, thanking them for their trust in him.

Despite the extended rest, the elders did not miss the bad shape in which Ethari was, and highlighted it with inquisitive comments. Ethari charmingly laughed at them, claiming that only the weariness of living in the wild had exhausted him, since it was only natural for someone like him. He had always been  _ weak _ for a moonshadow. It was of public knowledge his life-standing uselessness. Nothing new under the sun, after all.

His words convinced the elders, or so they pretended, but no reasons or explanations stopped the gossips around Ethari, which indeed had turned worse. However, he did not mind them. It was not as if it were the first time he was the protagonist of their rumours.

* * *

That night, after a long session of passionate lovemaking, Runaan and Ethari rested in the bed, observing the moon through the window and sharing lazy caresses over their sweaty bodies. Soon, another dangerous mission was going to be announced, and Runaan could feel the tension and the anxiety behind Ethari’s skin. The echoes of the last mission were still too fresh, and the fear of seeing his flower sink once again was too much to hold. Runaan could only imagine how dark Ethari’s heartbroken eyes had been in those days when he thought he had died. He could understand that unsettling distress; it was exactly the reason why he had always held back his feelings towards Ethari, expecting them to fade and avoid this constant concern in his life. Sadly, or happily, he had failed in doing so. 

Now, he had to find a way to deal with that fear. He needed to do something to soothe Ethari’s future uneasiness. 

The idea had been flitting around his mind since a long, long time; it was not exactly a solution to those anguished days that any dangerous mission would inspire in Ethari, but at least it was something to grab onto during that time. It was going to be the promise that Ethari could rely on when his soul faltered the most. And that day, he felt encouraged enough to give the first step.

“Can I leave the bed a moment without fearing you would fall asleep and I would lose you forever until the morning?” Runaan said after giving Ethari a peck on his lips, his tone was playful. 

Ethari tenderly hit Runaan’s head and smiled at him pretending to be annoyed. “Go ahead.”

Runaan left the bed without shame in his nakedness, and searched for something in the corner of the room where his belongings were spread on a small table. He returned to bed holding a small box that Ethari recognised immediately. He had crafted it years ago, and it contained two pairs of simple ambyths.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Runaan awaited Ethari to lift from the mattress and looked at him with a smug smile. He placed the box on Ethari’s lap and observed his face with the sweetest glint in his eyes. “Do you know I love your craftsmanship? That I’m more than proud of your skills?”

Ethari looked at the box, touching its border, remembering some fragments of their childhood, especially the one in which Runaan had suggested him to craft what he was not able to have. What a long journey it had been. “What about that?”

“You probably remember this.” Runaan tapped the box, “It would be better if you have forgotten about it… because...”

Ethari did not opened it. “I know what’s inside. But… Um… Was it not going to be given to another person back then?”

Runaan blinked, his eyebrows raised, clearly lost in some part of the phrase. He ignored Ethari’s words and opened the box. Inside, two pairs of simple ambyths were displayed, but one had a turquoise gems engraved in it, and the other had a copy of his own swirling patterns that he used to apply on his craftsmanship. 

“I’m giving them to the same person I was thinking about back then.” Runaan said, his voice softer than ever. 

Ethari frowned for a moment and chuckled, assuming it was just a silly joke. He looked at Runaan, and his calm yet serious face made him doubt it. He observed the Ambyths again as understanding finally hit him. “What? but… You always...” He snorted covering his eyes with a hand and shaking his head slowly. “Runaan, you were always a disaster.”

With a soft chuckle, Runaan took Ethari’s hand and held it  between his, “Don’t blame me. My head was always a bit confused with you around... still is.” He kissed that hand with devotion, “In a wonderful way.”

Runaan blushed slightly, not used to exposing his emotions so openly. Amused, Ethari touched the ambyths with his fingertips. He could not believe that Runaan managed to customise them in such a stealthy way. Now he remembered that day, years ago, when Runaan asked him for a pair of turquoise gems. Now, it made sense that other day in which he had asked him to explain with too much detail how Ethari used to engrave patterns in his weapons. Runaan was that way… as sneakily he stole his craftsmanship secrets, he stole his heart too. Always sneaky, to the core. Ethari smiled when he saw Runaan’s nervous fingers tapping his own hand.

It was true. This was part of a tradition, something that Runaan always liked to follow despite having failed it at the beginning of their relationship. To show the ambyths under the moonlight meant that a particular question was floating in the air. A question that Ethari had no doubts to answer. He took one of the ambyths and kept it suspended in front of Runaan.

“Do you accept the light and the darkness of my life?” As it was expected in the private ritual of The Asking, he repeated the question that the tradition required. 

“I do.” Runaan said and humbly lowered his head before him, exposing his horns. With care, Ethari slid a single Ambyth onto Runaan’s left horn. The other one was going to be worn during the ritual of The Asking, the day of marriage. Someday ahead.

Runaan took the other ornament and repeated the same question. Ethari bowed before him, smiling at the reverberations all over his head as the Ambryth passed along his heavily textured horn.

“I know I’m greedy. That this is unfair for you. To be by an assassin's side...” Runaan said, holding Ethari’s hand, “But I want you to know that you shall always be here”. He lifted Ethari’s hand and placed it on his bare chest, intensely looking at him.

Touched, Ethari approached him and kissed him, pulling him in the bed again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, dear.”

The convoluted situation of war did not give them guarantees that they would marry soon. Completing the ritual of The Asking was going to take time, but until that moment, this engagement was enough for them.

When their kisses became more intense again, and a new session of soft lovemaking was imminent, a strong baby scream stopped them short. They remained silent for some seconds, looking at one another, awaiting the sound to stop, but it seemed it was not going to happen. They sighed in resignation. They had forgotten that Lain and Tiadrin had left them the baby in order to have some private time for themselves, something they did not have for a long time. Rayla was, clearly, too demanding. The private celebration for their engagement had to wait.

“I think she is calling you.” Runaan said already under the heavy weight of Ethari. 

Ethari rolled his eyes and got up lazily. He took his underwear from the floor and left the room hopping, trying to wear it up while walking.

Runaan awaited him for a while, but by the sound of it, Rayla had decided to get all their attention. Bored in that lonely bed, he got up and collected all their clothes around. With care and a smile on his face, he took the Ambryths box and put it carefully on the corner table. Then, he changed the sheets for a fresh one. The cries never stopped during that time. With nothing more to do in the bed, and considering it was better to help Ethari to calm down the little monster, he headed to the door, but when he opened it, he saw Ethari with the baby in his arms.

“She is not stopping. I changed her nappy. I tried to give her food, but she doesn’t want any. I’ve massaged her belly too. But nothing. Let’s see if you are luckier.”

Runaan surrounded her in his arms and even though it took a moment, Rayla started to calm down. Any attempt to separate her from him, made her cries start all over again. Frustrated, Ethari suggested to sleep with her in the middle of the bed since she seemed to want closeness. He prepared the bed, placing some pillows to restringe her movement, but as soon as she left Runaan’s arms she started to cry again.

Annoyed and tired, Runaan laid on the bed and let the little baby face down on his naked chest while Ethari softly sang a lullaby. In no time, her big purple eyes fell down while sleepiness took over her. She was finally going to sleep.

Beside Runaan, Ethari chuckled caressing Rayla’s back, content with the peaceful picture of his lover and the baby. 

“She is so ridiculous.” Runaan said. 

“Aww, don’t say that.” Ethari hit tenderly his head and pulled the blankets over the three of them. He put some extra pillows on the left side of Runaan's, in case the baby would roll in that direction. He laid by Runaan's right side, pretty close to his body so he could be that barrier. Ethari kissed Runaan’s temple and got comfortable enough to let a peaceful sigh escape from his chest. “It’s known babies need their loved ones’ skins and their heartbeat to soothe. She truly likes you.” Then Ethari resumed his lullaby.

Runaan tried not to show the melting effect of that comment on him. He lowered his chin as much as he could in that position and observed the sleepy face of the baby as the song echoed in his mind. Her little hand was grabbing a lock of his hair, moving her fingers unconsciously. It was such a calming moment. 

The song felt familiar and, out of the blue, a shattered memory interrupted that peaceful scene. That lullaby started to change in his mind, to distort into screams, into fast steps bursting into calm houses, into the sound of broken necks and blades slashing bodies. His breathing became suddenly agitated. He snapped his head towards the door while all his body tensed up and his heart raced. Ethari stopped singing, and Rayla awoke and grunted, uncomfortable with that sudden change in the comfort of her elven mattress. 

“Runaan?” Ethari whispered in hesitation. 

But Runaan did not hear him. Instead, he remained static, sharpening his ear. However, nothing was outside. Only the flapping sound of moonowls and moths could be perceived. But in his memory, the catastrophic noise of a town being gutted open came back from the past. A monster shadow was going to cross that door in the middle of such chaos, he simply knew it.

“Runaan… are you ok?”

Ethari saw Runaan’s unfocused eyes and worried, he tried to take Rayla away from his chest, but Runaan’s fast hand grabbed his wrist too violently. Then, those terrible eyes were fixated on him. For a fraction of a second, Ethari saw the assassin's cold look in those turquoise eyes. And feared.

“Runaan!” He said, scared; this time using his deepest voice with a commanding intonation. Rayla growled.

As if it had been an order, Runaan blinked, and that aggressive shadow from his eyes disappeared. He looked at his hand grabbing Ethari’s wrist and released it immediately. He looked at Rayla, worried, and cupped her head while he lifted a bit on the mattress. His breathing calmed down slowly.

“I… I’m sorry, dear.” Runaan said after a deep long sigh. 

“What happened?” 

“I just… I’ve just remembered….” Runaan rubbed his eyes, breaking down without any warning. Ethari was surprised by the sudden tears falling along Runaan’s cheek. “ I’ve killed… I’ve done it… while they were like this. The babies...”

Ethari swallowed hard, finally understanding. Those dark bloody narrations he had always listened from Runaan every time he was weak and hurt, took a tangible shape now. A shape of the picture they were performing unconsciously. When he told him that he had killed desperate parents begging mercy for their children… he had meant this. People like them, right there, too focused on letting a baby sleep.

Runaan had burst into their happiest and private moments, and had painted them with despair and blood leaving bodies of every size behind him. His first take, his  _ many  _ first takes, had been haunting him ever since.

“What I’ve done… what I’m going to be doing… has no forgiveness.” Runaan whispered and touched Rayla’s head with his lips. She was already falling asleep again.

Ethari embraced him tightly and kissed his temple, letting him release all that pain and festered emotions he was always holding inside him. This was one of those rare moments in which Runaan had been left without walls to cover him, exposed completely with his naked emotions. This had been happening more often than before since Rayla’s birth. 

Ethari slid his arm under Runaan’s neck, and pressing his forehead on his temple, he whispered close to his ear. “Talk. Let’s just talk about it. You know the burden can always be left outside this house.”

Runaan drew a sad yet grateful smile. 


	9. Chapter 9

It had been an exhausting day of training. Sweaty and tired, Runaan walked into the workplace expecting to find Ethari but it was empty. He did not mind it. Ethari tended to spend a lot of time outside his house, observing different fighters to understand their combat style and forge customised weapons for each of them. He would also visit the Druids of Silvergrove, asking them about enchants and feasible tricks to make his own much stronger.

He took a hot bath and focused on their dinner instead. Receiving Ethari with a tasty dish was going to draw an extremely sweet smile on his face. That _nice_ smile of his he had always loved.

A knock on the main door forced him to leave the kitchen in the middle of the preparation. His smile turned bigger when a little girl rushed into him, jumping into the air, trusting his catch without hesitation. Of course he did not let her down; he grabbed her little waist and spun several times extending his arms in the air to give Rayla that sensation of flying. She giggled. Then he pulled her little body closer so she could hug his neck and touch his hair. Rayla always was fascinated by his long hair.

“The way she has you in the palm of her hand should be considered a crime.” Tiadrin said walking in afterwards.

Runaan smiled, “Are you leaving her with us?”

Tiadrin sighed. “Yes. Lain and I are going to train in the mountains for a couple months. It’s part of … our duty as future Dragonguards.” Her smile flickered.

Runaan put Rayla on the ground and patted her little back, “Go to your room, Ethari made you a gift a couple of days ago.”

With a cheerful laugh, Rayla rushed upstairs and disappeared for a while. Only then, Runaan looked at his friend with a serious gesture. “How long will it be?”

“I don’t know.” She lowered her head.

Runaan could have asked her if she was regretting having been designated as future Dragonguard, but it was pointless. Once the King chose his protectors, whether they liked it or not, it was a matter of duty to follow orders. Questioning was unthinkable. It was sad to think that, soon, Rayla would not see her parents anymore. They certainly had to enjoy the little time they had by now.

“Where is Ethari?” She said.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I came home hours ago and didn’t find him.”

Tiadrin frowned. “He had to give me a new pair of swords. And he was not here in the morning either.”

“Must be annoying some druid.”

Both chuckled and shared a brief goodbye. After Tiadrin left, Runaan went to Rayla’s room. She was already playing with her present: a couple of metallic daggers without edge nor points that allowed her to imitate her favourite uncle. Almost instantly Runaan felt the need to correct her and teach her some basics with them.

They played for a while, Runaan pretending to train her while she was all serious about using these mortal weapons. Rayla loved that game. Runaan was knelt in order to be closer to Rayla’s height, and using his hands as slow blockers, he would counter Rayla’s strangely fast stabs. They laughed and joked around for hours until night fell.

And _that_ made Runaan nervous. Ethari never skipped dinner without telling them beforehand. Maybe he had overlooked something when he entered the house earlier that day. With Rayla sitting on his shoulders and grabbing his horns firmly as a mount, he looked around the house. Maybe he had not seen some note, a message explaining that Ethari was going to be absent for the night or any other explanation. But he found nothing. And that was not Ethari’s style. A bad feeling started to grow in his chest.

Uneasy, Runaan left the house and jogged around Silvergrove with Rayla still on his shoulders, laughing. It was a good way to tire her out and made her focus on something else while he asked everyone about Ethari's whereabouts. Sadly, none had seen him during the whole day, not even the Druids.

Now Runaan was starting to truly worry about it. He looked for their mounts in the backyard of Ethari’s house and found only one. His Moonstrider was there, looking at him apathetically as always while Ethari’s mount--that sweet Shadowpaw who loved Rayla too much--was nowhere to be found. He rushed back into the workplace once again and opened the mining cabinet, seeing that part of the tools were missing.

Now he had a good guess what Ethari was doing but not where. While a dark looming thought suffocated him at the back of his mind, he covered his appearance with a careless demeanour, so Rayla could not sense that something was dangerously wrong. He awaited some hours more trusting that maybe Ethari had extracted too many ores and was struggling to drag that weight to Silvergrove. However, when midnight fell, he could not hold his restless feeling anymore. He tucked Rayla in her bed and as soon as she fell asleep, he left the house.

Riding his Moonstrider, he went out Silvergrove holding one of Ethari’s many scarves in his hand, so his mount would follow the scent in the air. After some long minutes of travel, they reached the Border. The enormous size of that range of mountains made him desperate. Ethari never had a particular place to mine, exploring a different one each time. He could be in any place. Guided by a sudden intuition, he headed South watching for any strange signal until his Moonstrider stopped short and moved her ears. Something had got her attention. Without second thoughts, Runaan told her to follow whatever it was. They rushed to the mountains and entered a small valley.

The deeper they went into the solitary valley the clearer a strange sound became. It was a cry-roar echoing in the distance. His heart stopped as a cold sense of a bad omen wrapped his soul.

His Moonstrider stopped in front of a cave. At its entrance, on the ground, he found Ethari’s mining bag with some ores inside and several of his tools spread around. From the dark cave, a pair of reflective eyes looked at him. The creature came out from the darkness, revealing itself. It was Ethari’s Shadowpaw, which spun on herself, impatient. She carefully nipped at Runaan’s forearm and pushed him into the cave looking at him with teary eyes.

Worried, he jumped off from his own ride and took from his bag a moon opal gem that charged with Moonlight in order to illuminate his way into the cave. At some point, the path ended; it was blocked by many collapsed rocks whose meaning stopped his heart. He looked at the Shadowpaw who purred stressed. Ethari was there… there were no doubts.

He closed his eyes for a moment, drowning his despair and fears deep into his soul, and opened them colder than ever. More focussed, he started to remove the rocks with his own hands, calculating how dangerous it was to move each stone for another collapse to happen. His task was interrupted most of the time by the Shadowpaw which kept grabbing his forearm. It was clear that she wanted him to do something else, so he frowned and gave her his attention. The Shadowpaw made a husky sound and walked away to a corner of the collapse tunnel. In the darkness, she pushed something with her snout.

Runaan’s eyes filled with tears when, getting closer, he could distinguish what she was nuzzling. It was a dark hand of four fingers. He rushed, and frantically, started to remove rocks quickly despite the danger of another collapse. Bit by bit, Ethari’s face appeared under the rubble.

“No, no, no, no.” He whispered, as tears ran along his cheeks. He could easily take out the rocks that had fallen on Ethari’s torso, but there were some big ones on his legs that were impossible to move.

He touched Ethari’s cheeks fearing the worst, but thankfully, they were still warm. Ethari's neck displayed a normal pulse despite the important blow on his temple which had left a small pool of blood aside. The tip of his right horn was broken too. In spite of the many dents all over his torso, and maybe some broken rib, Ethari looked fine. All that mass of hard muscles covering his body ended up being a vital protection. After that inspection, Runaan could finally breathe and wipe some tears.

While Runaan took a moment to recover his cold demeanour, the Shadowpaw insistently licked Ethari’s face forcing him to awake. When those brown eyes opened again Runaan released a deep sigh of tension. He was alive. Very alive.

“Ethari, can you hear me? Do you know me? Do you know where you are?” Runaan said caressing Ethari’s cheek so the awakening could be less stressful.

Ethari winced and moaned in pain when he tried to move a bit. “Runaan… I’ve … almost… I thought...”

“Shh. Don’t worry about that now, I’ll get you out of here. I only need you to focus on staying conscious, can you do that?”

Ethari nodded, but despite his words, he lifted his painful torso and looked at his waist. A big rock was over his right leg, the one he was feeling horribly. Runaan carefully wrapped Ethari’s shoulders in a soft hug allowing Ethari to breathe and calm himself down while resting his dirty face on the corner of Runaan's neck. Ethari's body was shaking due to the shock.

“I think it’s broken,” He finally said after gathering enough strength in Runaan arms. “And by the way it feels, some ribs too”.

“Don’t move too much. You could puncture your lungs.”

“I would be dead if they were. That’s fine. It feels fine… I guess?” He touched his ribs and winced. “As fine as it can get, that’s it. But my leg… “

“I’ve tried to move that rock, but I cannot. It’s too heavy.”

“We need to make a lever. Bring my metallic pick. I left it outside.”

Worried, Runaan rubbed Ethari’s back a little bit before leaving the cave. He returned immediately after, and under Ethari’s instructions, he used the tool to make a bit of space between his leg and the rock. That was enough for Ethari to be gently dragged out by his Shadowpaw and finally be free.

Runaan helped him to go outside the cave and rest on a rock under the gentle light of the moon. Released of any tension, Ethari hugged Runaan strongly this time, forgetting his pain for a moment, as some tears helped him to process the shock. Runaan gave him some berry juice to soothe his sore throat and treated his leg as much as he could with pain-relief leaves, splinting his broken bone with some long branches. It was going to be enough until they could reach Silvergrove.

“I thought it was the end…” Ethari said drinking slowly.

“It would be such a bad irony to become a widower before you.” Runaan said nervously, trying to lighten up his mood but certainly it was not the best comment he could share. He was still under the effects of the terror of having seen Ethari almost dead. Unable to stay completely cold, switching between the assassin and the normal Runaan, he could not come up with a better comment.

Ethari frowned at him, and with a moan full of painful effort, he hit his head softly. “Don't joke with those things”.

Runaan chuckled nervously and hugged him again, carefully, swallowing a knot of fear in his throat.

After the break and with their minds more relaxed, Runaan helped him to mount his Shadowpaw. He was going to have a really painful return even though his mount was careful not to swing much.

The druids checked Ethari immediately after their arrival, finding no risky wounds more than a broken leg already plastered and a pair of broken ribs. Nothing that some months of rest would not heal.

“Don’t go to mine in new places alone, Ethari. It’s dangerous.” Runaan said to him once he helped him to go back home and put him in bed.

“I'm sorry. It was not my original intention to be trapped under half a mountain, believe me.” He said annoyed. Every druid had told him the same for the last two hours. He did not need Runaan repeating it at home.

“Maybe we are going to need a minor flower ritual soon.” Runaan said arranging some pillows behind Ethari’s back.

Ethari opened his lips, as if he were offended, and hit his husband with the same pillow he had just arranged. The last he needed was _this_ man mocking him about dangerous situations.

Passive, Runaan simply accepted the hit and embraced him carefully, his face against Ethari’s neck.

“Don’t do it again… please.”

Despite the misfortune, it was a good temporary change to be taken care of by Runaan and Rayla until his body healed. For a couple of months, Ethari had to take work slowly and focus more on crafting protection amulets and small objects than forging weapons. He was incapacitated to hammer, since his ribs prevented him from using all the strength of his body. So, among the small things he could do, he started with the metallic replacement for the tip of his broken horn. That was going to be a memento of how close to death he was.

During that time, Rayla prefered to stay in Ethari’s bed, bringing him all the tools he needed to design new toys for her and crafting them in front of her. Instead of running along Silvergrove and its surroundings or training with her favourite uncle, she spent her days by Ethari’s side so he would not feel lonely. They would play and talk as they had never done before. Accustomed to the strong link between Runaan and Rayla, Ethari was amazingly shocked with the way she worried about him. He would never forget how meaningful that time was for both of them. They already had an important bond but that misfortune had only deepened it even more.

* * *

Several months had passed and he was eager to finally remove that damn plaster on his leg. His ribs were still a bit sensitive but nothing too serious that he could not endure. Maybe forging weapons was still out of the question but some work heavier than crafting jewellery could be handled now.

That afternoon he returned to his house still walking with the help of his cane. The plaster could have been removed but he needed to re-educate his leg to feel his weight again on it. When he went upstairs, he found Rayla and Runaan sitting around the small table, arm wrestling. The girl was pouting, twisting her wrist, while frowning at Runaan’s smug smile.

Ethari walked in, left a kiss on Rayla’s head, and gave Runaan a peck in his lips. He sat on the other side of the table and observed them with an amused smile on his face. Runaan looked at him with his arm locked in that position. Rayla was doing all the force her little body could manage in vain. She could not make it move even an inch.

“I see your leg has been recovered.” Runaan said.

“Still needs some rest but not so much as before.” Ethari looked at Rayla’s tremendous effort, and then frowned at Runaan. “What are you doing to her? Poor Rayla.”

With a cold face, he observed her. She had filled her cheeks with air as if that could help her win. “She insisted that I was going to lose. I am teaching her some lessons about bragging.”

Rayla grunted, sweat falling along her temples. The poor four-year-old girl deflated her face and stuck her tongue out, using all her body to try to move Runaan’s arm with no success.

“This is unfair.” Ethari said faking offense. Rayla looked at him for a fraction of a second, all her effort and frustration transparent in her big purple eyes. Ethari could not resist it. He dragged his body close to Rayla and put his elbow on the table with his hand open wide. His defying eyes aimed to Runaan.

Runaan scanned him, sliding his inquisitive eyes all along that muscular arm. That bicep was standing out too obscenely. Now it was Ethari who was bragging. He looked at his own arm while Rayla kept struggling with him. He raised an eyebrow and pushed her arm against the table. He won.

“Why don’t you mess with someone of your own height?” Ethari said in a half-smile.

Rayla opened her eyes wide and accepted her loss. She took away her little arm from the table and looked back and forth between Ethari and Runaan. Runaan remained silent, observing with his calculating demeanour that strong arm, as if he were considering the proposition.

“Is The Great Runaan doubting? Maybe fearing? Oohh?” Ethari squinted his eyes.

Runaan forced an artificial laugh and grabbed that hand. “Never.”

The arm wrestling was brutal. Runaan had no chances against Ethari, who despite his still healing ribs, did not need to apply much effort to take him down. Five wins in a row, and he would have to keep on counting them had not Rayla intervened. She stopped their wrestling and took Runaan’s hand. It was shaking prominently due to all that tension and strength he was uselessly putting to move a little bit Ethari’s thick arm.

Worried for that trembling, she kissed Runaan’s hand, unintentionally, making Runaan smile melt on the inside, while Ethari squealed.

Then, she looked at Runaan frowning. “You losing. Don’t!” She said with a rough little voice, commanding the order.

He raised an eyebrow. What a change of mood. “But you wanted me to lose. Now you got what you desired. And are you not happy?”

“No. I don’t. I want to beat him!” She pointed out at Ethari who chuckled with glossy eyes.

She knelt on the table by Runaan’s side, ceremoniously observing her adversary. Rayla could be grumpy and annoyed because Runaan overpassed her in everything, but she detested to see her teacher lose. Even if it was against Ethari. Now, she was going to put a remedy to this unbearable situation.

When both men started another arm wrestling session, she grabbed Ethari’s wrist and pulled it down. She could not remain knelt for longer and had to stand up on the table, using her little body against that arm. Runaan summoned all the power and strength he could manage, helped by what little Rayla could do. But no matter how much effort they would imprint in their wrestling, Ethari could only laugh at both of them, relaxed, enjoying that picture of too much work made by those two when he was not struggling at all.

Touched by all the energy that Rayla was desperately using in this match, Runaan could not bare the thought of watching her sad face due to the defeat, so he got an idea. He may not have Ethari’s brawn, but he had always fought and survived using his cunning. So he observed Ethari’s arm, identifying where that particular nerve was placed, and using his free hand, he quickly pressed it. The hit discharged a paralysing electricity all along Ethari’s arm, who yelped in surprise. All his strength abandoned him for a second and Rayla, finally, could win. She jumped off the table and ran around them screaming euphorically. Ethari rubbed his elbow while the sensation receded, his eyes open wide in surprise for his husband to use such a dirty trick.

“How could you possibly do that? I can’t believe I’ve married a cheater!.”

Runaan laughed as Rayla jumped to his arms, hugging his neck and pointing with a finger at Ethari. “Don’t call him cheater!” She said with a frown.

“Dear, do not be such a bad loser. You need to accept that Rayla is too powerful for you to face.”

Ethari sighed, chuckling. Of course he was not going to insist. Rayla wanted to win so badly. It was so good to see them both laughing so openly and so happily. Especially Runaan.

“Powerful!” Rayla said, jumping away from Runaan’s arms and sitting by his side, her little arm on the table. “Now I challenge you!” She said, looking at Ethari.

“Well. Look what you have created, dear.” Runaan said.

Ethari raised his eyebrows. That was a fast build-up of confidence. Of course he accepted the challenge. He made the match last for a while, enjoying all that power that little Rayla was trying to imprint alone in his arm. When he felt she was exhausting herself, he let his own arm fell on the table as his body on the ground. Rayla gasped.

“Oh, no. Rayla, you are too powerful!” he said, out of breath, pretending to take time to recover it after such a big defeat.

“It was me!” Rayla snapped her head to look at Runaan. “It was me! I beat him!” The sound of Rayla’s laugh filled the house for a while.

When they tucked her into bed and they both could finally be alone, they took a bath together. It had been a habit since Ethari’s accident, and even though now there was no need for Ethari to have extra help in cleaning his body, they always enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. However, this time, what started with rubbing their backs with soap, ended quickly in intense kisses and teasing hands between their bodies.

“Do you want me to continue this in our bed?” Ethari whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe, a fingertip drawing a circle on Runaan’s hipbone.

“You had just got your plaster removed… and your ribs still hurt… is that wise?” Runaan said slapping softly Ethari’s hand on his hip. Then, he focused on drying Ethari’s body with a towel while the damn man was playfully kissing and biting his neck. Out of the blue, he moaned when Ethari licked him.

“It’s been a while since the last time… And I don’t know, you sound like you need it.” Ethari said with his most seductive voice, never losing that hint of playfulness proper of his personality.

Runaan took some distance, observed him with a raised eyebrow and bit his lower lip. Certainly, desire was not a problem. He threw the towel over Ethari’s head and pulled it to get him close. Pressing their fresh bodies, he kissed him slowly tasting those fabulous dark lips.

“I doubt it,” Runaan said after breaking their kiss; his voice low and sensual “I’ve had a hard day. I don’t think I could do more efforts by now.”

“And when have you ever done it?” Ethari stepped away and took the towel around him to wrap his waist. His glinted eyes and smug smile kept teasing Runaan.

Runaan touched his own stomach and winced in an overreacted gesture. “Ouch. That’s so unfair, dear.”

Ethari chuckled, caressing Runaan’s cheek and appreciating his amused smile on his relaxed face. “I’m ruthless. And you lack training. So, prepare yourself… it’s an order.” He said taking Runaan’s by the towel around his waist and pulled him out of the bathroom to head to their room.

“Yes… Sir…” Runaan said with an intense blush and a silly smile on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s an honour for us to serve the King and the Queen, protecting their egg, but…” Lain's words trailed off when he looked down at his little Rayla. She had already run towards Runaan and was climbing his body to reach his shoulders.

“We are leaving now.” Tiadrin said.

Ethari looked at Rayla and helped her to reach Runaan’s shoulders. She grabbed his horn with a hand and started to play with his hair. Discreetly, as a measure of safety, Runaan kept his hand on one of her ankles.

Rayla looked at her mother and pouted. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

A shade of sorrow washed Tiadrin and Lain’s faces. When Queen Zubeia finally laid her egg, they were called to be part of the Dragonguards, a permanent position usually left with their death. Never had a duty been so hard to perform.

“Will you have some time to come back and visit her?” Ethari asked, reading his friend’s pain too easily.

Lain and Tiadrin looked at each other, full of doubts. Runaan pretended that a lock of his hair had been entangled in Rayla's little hands, knowing what that silence meant. A soft frown appeared on Ethari’s face.

“I imagine you never expected to have the obligation to raise a child…” Tiadrin said smiling at Ethari. “I’m sorry about this, but… You are the ones we trust the most... especially you.”

Ethari looked down for a fraction of a second. Those words had attached a heavy weight on his heart. He being the safest of all of them only meant that he was not a warrior. His life, probably, was going to last longer than theirs. Of course he was the safest option for Rayla.

“Don’t worry. We are more than happy to help. Well, she is like a daughter to us anyways. We love her a lot.” He said and observed the child. She was still on Runaan’s shoulder, moving from one side to another.

“She will become a person of honour.” Runaan said ceremoniously, while Rayla started to kiss and caress his horns.

When she was younger, she tended to bite them, denting their surface. Runaan never minded it since it was common for parents to have them marked by their children’s teeth. In fact, for him it was almost a mark of honour and the symbol of the hard work he embraced with Rayla. But Ethari -- secret guardian of his husband’s beautiful horns -- explained to her that those little teeth were painful for Runaan, and taught her not to bite them anymore. Instead, she acquired this habit of caressing and kissing them every time she was bored on his shoulders.

“As soon as we have the opportunity, we will return.” Lain said. Nobody believed in those words but no one had the courage to shut down that illusion. In a sense, it had a degree of truth. If the opportunity would exist, they would probably take it, but such an event was not going to happen. Ever. Dragonguard was a service impossible to reject or have any break, it was a duty until death.

Tiadrin gave Ethari a box with Rayla toys and hugged her daughter for the last time. Lain did the same with some tears in his eyes. The little one still could not perceive the gravity of the situation, so she climbed Runaan’s shoulders as soon as she kissed her parents and kept playing with his hair.

Ethari gave the couple a pair of enchanted pearl bracelets and belts, imbued with full moon light to give them strength in their weakest. They looked like matching accessories that both wore in their waists and hands. Grateful, they hugged their friends for the last time.

Runaan, Ethari, and Rayla looked at the couple leaving Silvergrove. The child was still focused on playing with Runaan’s hair while they could feel the emptiness growing in their chest as those figures disappeared. Rayla was now their full responsibility.

This was going to be a difficult task even though they accepted it gladly. Raising a five-year-old child in an assassin’s house concerned Ethari. Rayla already had enough fascination for Runaan. It was going to be a matter of time for her to follow his steps if Ethari did not reinforce her pride in her parents. At least, he could try to keep her focussed on admiring the Dragonguard duties, which responsibility was even bigger than any assassin and the integrity of their minds remained less harmed. He sighed for the moment and put his worries behind him looking at his husband. They would face the problems one step at a time as they came up.

Sad by their childhood friends' departure, Ethari caressed his husband’s forearm as he spoke softly, “Now you need to be more careful than ever. Don’t leave me raising her alone.”

Runaan smiled gently and caressed Ethari’s jaw, giving a peck on his lips while struggling to balance his head with Rayla moving on his shoulders and pulling his horns. “I promise.”

That was how little Rayla started to live with them. From an uncle-like dynamics they had to pass to a parent-like one. Some limits had to be placed and hard education had to be given. It was not difficult for Runaan to do it. He had always been strict and a good example of Moonshadow traditions to follow. Rayla would always learn the best of her people coming from him: focus, tenacity, responsibility, _duty_. However, that strictness would tense their relationship, turning the old good permissive Runaan, into the leader of the assassins, the instructor, the one who settles the bars too high.

For Ethari, however, it was going to be a struggle to fill that role in those terms. He had always been the odd elf; the strange one with a bit of a crooked perspective for a Moonshadow, the one who was always open under the light. To teach Rayla about their people’s shadowy ways--something he had always questioned--was rather against his own nature. After all, he had always been the exception of all those traditions and bars settled so high. He had never reached any of them. Although he felt worried about this, he trusted that, as it had happened with Runaan, his love would suffice to put aside his own oddities and nothing wrong could come from it.

Maybe he was hoping too much.

* * *

The first year was more or less easy to deal with, but the next ones began to show the true weight of the separation. Rayla started to miss her parents, spending her days in sad moods and asking their whereabouts while accepting any answer in the silence of her sad purple eyes. Ethari would explain to her thousands of times why they could not be there, by her side, accompanying her throughout her life, trying in vain to infuse a neutral judgement, but he could not help it. Rayla started to resent them and admire them in equal measure. For a child, pride and _duty_ were important in a community that overvalued them, but at the end of the day, they were meaningless. They did not tuck her in her bed or give her a kiss when her knees were hurt. And Ethari began to resent his people’s ways a little bit more with every day he saw that sadness growing in those purple eyes.

“If they can’t come, why can’t I go where they are? I want to see them.” She said one day, out of the blue, while they were having dinner.

“It’s because they have a _duty_. And we all are taught to fulfil it even if it demands ridiculous costs from us.” Ethari said in an emotionless voice that displayed how pissed off he was with those sacrifices.

Silent, Runaan had fixed his eyes on him and raised an eyebrow.

It was not the first time he heard him saying such a thing. In fact, it was becoming a habit. So often Ethari spread uncomfortable questions and opinions about the Moonshadow traditions that Rayla started to repeat them. Sometimes in their house, other times, in their training. This behaviour was a source of concern for Runaan. He feared for her. It was important that the youngest elves would not doubt their ways. Avoiding antagonising Ethari in front of her, he waited until late at night, and talked to him before going to sleep.

“You may have a weak love for our manners, but that does not give you the right to encourage that weakness in the little one. She is destined for greater things.”

Ethari snorted in disbelief. “ _Greater things,_ such as what? Getting killed by a whim of the King?”

Runaan only shook his head at that kind of answer, knowing that nothing would change Ethari’s stubborn mind. He had always been a little bitter about those topics due to his own experience. Although it was understandable, it was also pretty much non-recomendable.

But after giving a thought, Runaan did not mind the questioning influence that Ethari represented in Rayla’s life. After all, she always spent most of her time with him, observing him train and learning the ways of the Moonshadows. It was not going to be a danger. In fact, it did not take much time for Rayla’s fascination to end up as a genuine desire to imitate him fully. Soon, she asked him to train her, and Runaan allowed it, at least, as a hobby during her first years.

* * *

When their life had finally acquired a normal dynamic, it changed out of the blue after terrible news reached Silvergrove. The King of Katolis had killed Avizandum and destroyed his egg. The Dragonguards, bunch of honourless cowards, had escaped before facing the enemy. They were a shame.

“I can’t believe it.” Ethari said that night sitting in the middle of the bed, combing Runaan’s long hair after their bath. “They wouldn’t have done that. Or if they did… they must have reasons.”

“They left the egg unprotected. They failed.” Runaan said ruthlessly.

“I can’t believe that _you_ believe _that_. You know Lain and Tiadrin.”

Runaan sighed. “I know. But… facts are clear. They failed and they ran away. They did not die protecting the Prince, as they should have. We found no bodies at the Storm Spire. Besides, the Skywings had already informed us that all their Dragonguards ran away as well.” He said wrinkling his nose. Runaan always detested the Skywings.

“But they are Skywings. They… are like that. But Tiadrin and Lain weren’t.” Ethari finished the braid and let the rest of the long hair fall on that bareback. He caressed Runaan’s shoulder, still afflicted by the news. “How are we going to tell her? We don’t even know what truly happened.”

Runaan turned over the edge of the bed and faced Ethari, reaching his hands and thumbing his wrists. “Leave it to me. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“You two alone? You sure?”

Runaan nodded and sighed. “Just be ready to hold her.” Breaking Rayla’s little heart was not going to be easy in the slightest for any of them.

The news fell terribly on Rayla. That afternoon, exactly after receiving the news, Rayla rushed into Ethari’s workplace and embraced his waist tightly, ignoring the danger of an ignited piece of metal that he was hammering on the anvil. He did not need to ask her what had happened.

He simply squatted to be at her height and allowed her to hug his neck. She cried, heartbroken. Now her parents were traitors and cowards, banished from the Silvergrove, and deeply detested by almost everyone. All that honour in enduring her longing for her parents, all that satisfaction in knowing they were performing a greater good, all that pride that could soothe a little bit the sadness of not seeing them again, had been for nothing. All that she suffered with, the separation, had been a wasted sacrifice. They were simply cowards.

Her idealisation for them as well as her desire to become a future Vanguard warrior disappeared soon after that day. She turned merciless with their memory. From that moment on, all her anger and frustration was completely channelled into training. Ethari could not help it but notice the resemblance between Rayla and Runaan. She had hardened enough and focused too much on training to avoid the pain. And that worried him.

From that moment on her talents shone. She became the strongest and the fastest of many generations. Wanting to give her a tool to redeem herself from her parent’s failure, Runaan started to seriously consider the option of suggesting her to be a true assassin now. Her talents were undeniable, but what was more important: it was the only thing he could do for her in order to wipe that deep sadness in her little heart. He was proud of her but mainly worried about her.

However, when the mere idea escaped from his lips in their marital bed, Ethari jumped and looked at Runaan as if he had just put into words the greatest sin of Silvergrove.

“No. Stop teaching her killing techniques. And do not even suggest her to become an assassin.”

“She wants to learn. And she has a lot of potential.” Runaan said.

“She can be a fighter if she wants to, like her parents.”

Runaan shook his head. “Exactly because of _that_ she doesn’t want to be one anymore.”

“It can’t be.”

“Let her embrace the duties that her parents rejected.”

“But an assassin... Don’t make her walk that path.”

Frowning slightly, Runaan observed him in silence for a long moment, letting transpire the doubt on his face. Then he spoke gravely, “So, you are ashamed of an assassin’s path.”

Ethari tilted his head releasing a sigh. “No. That’s not what I mean.”

“Yes. That is exactly what you mean. You do not want her to become an assassin because you believe it is not an honourable duty.”

“Honour be damned, Runaan. You know I can’t care less about that. I just think she has a good natured heart to resist that path.”

The sudden silence of Runaan and the hardness in his eyes to endure the pain of those words filled Ethari with terror .

“Runaan, please. You know what I mean. You endured too much to survive your role. You know it. Because it’s your… _duty._ ” The word was heavy in Ethari’s tongue, “You suffered for that. Do you want the same for her?”

“What do you know? You never killed anyone. Things go better after the first.” He said, a bit unsure about the last part.

“Are you serious? Did you forget all that we went through? Those often drifts in your mind?”

Runaan swallowed and averted Ethari’s eyes for a moment. “You are always forgetting we all have a duty. You are incapable of understanding. You never had one.”

Those words were like a cube of icy water falling over Ethari. That had hit him in his core, in the weakest point, the most sensitive one. Ethari frowned, squinted eyes, and observed Runaan in their bed, silent for a couple of seconds. He could answer that with more painful words, he could tell Runaan that he was proud of having no duty at all instead of having one that required killing innocent creatures. But he bit his tongue. That was just the anger and the festering frustration born from his own long-lasting uselessness. Instead, he sighed and slowly, he got up from the bed and walked to the door.

“Ethari… please…”

He left the room before Runaan could finish his phrase.

He went to Rayla’s room and checked on her. She was already sleeping. He caressed her hair and kissed her head. Then, he went downstairs and prepared his box of tea, two cups, a dry blend, and a pot of hot water. He was not particularly angry at Runaan, but the truth had hit him unexpectedly. He needed a moment alone.

He left the house and sat on the grass close to the pond in order to savour his midnight tea under the moonlight.

Rayla was going to grow up and choose her own path. That was something he could not fight against. Although Ethari had suggested her to incline her fighting skills towards the Vanguard, she seemed determined to follow Runaan. Especially after her parents were banished. It was not as if he could not understand her. The shame over her lineage was pressing her in a way that Ethari was quite familiar with. Maybe she wanted to be like Runaan to show everyone how different from her parents she was. But it was a mistake.

Ethari was married to an Assassin and loved him deeply, but that never changed his mind about the burden meant by that duty. Every mission was a painful torture of suspense, never knowing what to wait, if a safe and sound return or the sank message of death. And it was not even easier for Runaan, who had fractured his mind to keep two different mindsets to survive that alienating process. Nothing about and around an Assassin lifestyle was easy. He did not wish for a life like that for her.

“Ethari…”

His thoughts were interrupted by Runaan’s soft voice, whose presence and steps were impossible to sense beforehand. Ethari looked over his shoulder and said nothing, he only kept drinking his tea.

Runaan knelt by his side and sighed. “I apologise. I didn’t mean…”

Ethari took another cup and filled it with tea, extending it to his husband. “Mh. Don’t make a big deal of it. After all, it’s true. I crafted my own _duty_ because I never had one.”

Runaan approached him taking the cup. “You are not content with it?”

“With what? Forging weapons so you all can go and get killed under the whims of the Queen?” He shook his head, “Why wouldn't I? It's wonderful.” He stopped his bitter words with a sip of dry tea.

“Dear…”

“You never question it? Your _duty_? When Tiadrin and Lain left us, I saw the doubts in their faces, when they realised that they had to leave Rayla behind.”

“Nobody says it is easy. But it has to be done.”

“And who says that?”

“It’s our way.”

“ _Our way_ … which always dances to a Draconis rhythm.”

Snorting, Runaan half smiled and shook his head, placing a hand on Ethari’s waist. “You are such a rebel.”

“I’m not. A rebel would have left Silvergrove before caging themselves in a ridiculous _duty_ while watching everyone die. I just did what everyone does here… _duty_.”

“And do you think this is a bad life? That Rayla wouldn’t find her own balance?”

“I think this life could be much better. More free. Less bloody. Please… Runaan. Don’t encourage her. _Please_.”

“She has immense talent. And whether we like it or not… she can choose. She _will_ choose.”

Ethari looked at him with glossy sad eyes. That had been a terrible truth.

* * *

No. It could not be possible. She could not have chosen already.

Ethari took his mining bag and saddled both mounts in his backyard. He walked to the assassin training field and found Rayla fighting against seven trainees. With movements that he knew had been taught by Runaan, she got rid of them in less than ten seconds. That demonstration of dexterity and strength made him falter.

Runaan’s words were still echoing in his mind.

_She has already chosen._

No. Ethari wanted to believe that a seven-year-old child could not have decided in such an irrevocable way the rest of her life. He needed more than fifteen years for that. And still yet, he was not completely satisfied with his own choice.

“Ethari.”

Ethari jumped a little, startled by Runaan’s soft voice, always appearing from nowhere with absolute silent steps. Runaan placed a hand on the small of Ethari’s back as a way to ask him forgiveness for that unnecessary fright. He observed the bag on his shoulder and their mounts resting some steps away, it was obvious the unspoken question floating in the air.

“I want to bring Rayla with me. To show her other options. All she knows is…” Ethari extended his hand on the practice field and moved his wrist in a circle, “...this.”

Silent, half smile on his face, Runaan raised his eyebrows a little bit. This was the same topic from the other day. The damned topic that had been quite a friction between them lately, like nothing else had ever been in their lives.

“I believe she is not interested.” Runaan said.

“I believe you didn’t even ask her yet.”

“Look at her.” Runaan tilted his head to Rayla's direction.

She was only seven years old and was giving the beat of their life to all the assassin trainees that had been practising for more than five years. Ethari observed her with his heart tight. She had a deep frown and a coldness that she had never worn before him. When she was the last one standing in the field, she closed her eyes and took a second to open them again. Then, she finally looked at Runaan and Ethari in the distance, and waved her hand. Her face was Rayla’s once again.

Shocked by a deep understanding of how much Runaan had influenced her already, Ethari did not wave back. He looked at his husband who was smiling at her, all proud for his heart-daughter. His gesture was cut off at the sight of Ethari’s worried face.

“What is the matter?” Runaan said.

Ethari did not want to argue again. He simply sighed, and feeling dirty for his incoming lie, used the only trick he had under the sleeve. “The cave I’m going to mine is unstable. It’s in the far South. I want her to accompany me for that reason too. If something happens…”

Runaan’s gesture changed immediately. He turned serious and without putting any excuse he called Rayla. With his commanding voice, he ordered her to follow Ethari and protect him in the open. As if it were a serious mission, she nodded, full of determination.

They travelled to the South in their mounts. Rayla did not complain at all about this _mission_ , and despite her serious demeanour--another strange imitation of Runaan--she could not help but get distracted by some landscapes. The adoraburrs sticking on her mount’s sides and the glowing butterflies crossing her path were too beautiful or cute to resist them and pulled out some of her laughter.

When they reached the cave, Ethani started explaining to her each of his tools. She listened to the long list of uses a bit bored. Although she rejected the invitation for the first time, after Ethari’s insistence, she finally was convinced to take a pickaxe and try to mine some bland parts of the terrain. She ended up dirty, with red clay all over her face and body, and sneezing without stopping due to the thin dust left by the activity.

Pretty much like a grumpy Runaan, she complained about the mining, about the dirt, about the boredom of being hours hitting the same spot. Her mood was completely ruined.

“I don’t need to learn this. It’s a job for talent-less ones.” She spat out after her eleventh sneeze.

Ethari blinked, a bit shocked by the severity of her words, “Who says that?”

“Everyone does.”

Ethari felt hurt. It was obvious that such a concept was something she had always heard in the training field. Warriors and assassins were too valuable and proud of themselves, so it was common for them to look down on the other duties cultivated in the Silvergrove. But he knew it was more than a slipped-away phrase from a bunch of proud teenagers; it was what most Moonshadows thought about his art. It was about _their way_ of seeing life.

Rayla kept sneezing a couple of times, and when she got a break, she spoke quickly. “I am going to clean myself in the river.” She left without even waiting for his response.

Ethari sighed enduring in silence his frustration. Nobody would ever bother to appreciate the only one who crafted their damned weapons thanks to which they kept bragging about their own honour and duties. How skillful could they truly be without his weapons? Maybe Runaan was right. He would never understand that extreme way of living when more important things slipped away in front of their noses. Maybe it was because he had always been a kind of pariah among his own people, the _cursed_ one, the _weakest_ among them.

His anger arose and with it, the impact force of his pickaxe, deepening its reach and breaking hard rocks too quickly. In less than an hour, he had extracted so many ores that he filled his bag.

Once finished, more relaxed after all that effort that had channelled part of his frustration, he looked around. Rayla was nowhere to be found. He walked to the river expecting to find her playing with adoraburrs at its border, but she was not there either. However, stabbed at the edge of the river, the cold glint of light over Rayla's daggers caught his attention. The thought crossed his mind too fast to truly process it in detail. He whistled his Shadowpaw and rode it quickly, commanding her to go river down.

After ten minutes of riding he saw in the distance a thick branch that had fallen across the river. Against it, the strength of the water eased off and piled up many other small branches and leaves forming a natural small bay. The closer Ethari was from that place the sharper a bulge appeared before his eyes.

He saw it, as his heart leaped from his chest. A small body was stuck there. He screamed and rushed into the river, grabbing Rayla’s body. She was too pale and her breathing had stopped. Desperate, he threw her on dry ground, pressed her little chest and forced air into her lungs. He repeated the process over a minute, the longest one of his life.

But thankfully she suddenly coughed, crawling on the ground. Ethari cried a bit, hugging her with all the guilt in the world as Rayla, shaking, tried to explain what had happened among sobs.

“I slipped. It dragged me. I could not call you. Water was everywhere. I was calling you, but the water… I could not grab anything… I couldn’t swim… I was… dying.”

Ethari caressed her hair and let her cry to wash out the fear and stress of the experience until both of them ended up exhausted. Even after the moment finished, she was unable to remove her arms around his neck, shaking and sniffing sometimes.

With Rayla clinging around his chest and neck, Ethari mounted his Shadowpaw and returned to the cave together, aware that her little body, completely soaked, was now getting colder. Although their embrace would keep her warm, she needed to change her clothes immediately.

Once they reached the mining cave, he helped her to remove her soaked clothes and wrapped her in a towel he always had in his mining pack. It was better not to risk getting a cold after such a horrible experience.

Calling it a day, Ethari gathered his tools and returned with Rayla, who was still in shock and trembling, unable to ride back on her own. They had to share Ethari’s mount. The rest of the way home she tightly held onto Ethair’s neck, as if her life depended on it.

When they finally were back at home, Ethari prepared for her a hot bath with tranquillising salts, but she could not enter on her own. She felt that water was going to attack her, a fierce enemy that she could not cut with her daggers. So Ethari sat at the edge of the bathtub, holding her hand while she tried to relax in the warmth of the bath. But she could not endure it for long. As soon as her body felt warm again, she desperately asked for Ethari to take her out.

He helped her to dry her hair and put on dry clothes. Despite being safe in their house, she remained too close to him for the rest of the day, hugging his waist or grabbing his leg, too scared to let him go away. Because of this behaviour, Ethari could not melt the recently mined ores into ingots, let alone to work in the forge for that day. He even had to renounce to forge the recently mined ores into ingots for that day . He decided to simply let Rayla cuddle on his lap and hug his neck until dinner time. He could not blame her. It had been his fault. Despite asking her for forgiveness, he felt horrible about the whole situation.

When Runaan came back home, he immediately knew something wrong had happened to them. Ethari had a face all written in guilt while embracing a slightly shaking Rayla on his lap. Runaan tried to take Rayla off from Etahri, but she shrank violently, hid her face in Ethari’s neck, and shook her head.

“What happened? It’s Runaan.” Ethari said softly against Rayla’s hair.

“I’ve failed. I let him down. I’ve failed my mission.” She said crying.

That broke Etahri’s heart who hugged her tightly as a way to ask, once again, forgiveness for his foolish actions.

Understanding the situation much better with such little context, Runaan knew how to deal with this in a blink of an eye. “I did not give you a mission for you to cry on Ethari’s lap.” He said, standing proud before his husband and steeling himself.

Wide open eyes, Ethari looked at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What are you saying?” He whispered.

“Rayla. Report your mission.”

The child hugged Ethari strongly and kept hiding her face in his neck. Ethari could not believe what was happening. How Runaan could be _this_ tough with their little Rayla in _this_ state?

“Rayla… _Report_.” Runaan stressed his last word strongly to make the threat clear.

Enduring the shame, slowly, she moved bit by bit until she jumped off from Ethari’s lap. Rubbing her reddened eyes, still shaking, she stepped forward and sniffed several times before the neutral gaze of Runaan. He waited patiently.

“Mission not accomplished.” She said.

“Why?”

“I fell in the… in…” she wrinkled her face, in a colossal effort to stop her tears before continuing with her report. “I fell in the river. Almost died. Ethari saved me.”

“What was your mission?”

“To keep him safe.”

Runaan approached Ethari and took his wrist, lifting his arm. He looked around his body as if he were inspecting some damage, and then retraced his steps. He stood straight in front of Rayla once again. “He seems to be completely fine. I cannot detect wounds or damage of any kind.”

Rayla’s eyes opened wide suddenly, and snapped her head to see Ethari once again. She observed him up and down, and then, a little smile curved her lips. The whole shock seemed to have been soothed with those words.

“Well done, Rayla. Your mission has been accomplished. You endured the inconveniences that may happen in any mission. You sorted them out. And you returned safe and sound. Congratulations.”

She softly giggled after sniffing a couple of times. Her face was a bit more brightened and the sadness had been wiped away with those words. It was clear that Runaan’s praise had a unique value for her.

Surprised to see how Runaan had managed her shocked state, Ethari observed him in silence, sad, unsure of what to expect from him. Runaan had won. Ethari was the only one to blame for insisting on something that, now, it was more than obvious: Rayla had all the talents and the mindset for becoming a fighter and nothing else. Rayla was destined to become an assassin.

Due to the graveness of Ethari’s face, Runaan touched his shoulder and gave him a tranquil smile before following Rayla upstairs and preparing their dinner.

After tucking Rayla in her bed, they laid down in theirs. Surrounded by the comfort of the sheets and the penumbra illuminated by the moonlight, Ethari explained to Runaan all that had happened that day. He was feeling sickly guilty. His insistence had put Rayla in deadly risk. He was expecting Runaan to be upset with him, considering he had dragged her to that experience as a way to protect her from the assassin path, but ironically, almost killed her.

But Runaan did not reproach him anything. Instead, he turned over and cuddled him with care, “Accidents happen. This one did not cost her life. We were lucky. And it’s a good lesson for her.”

“Lesson?” Ethari snorted, unable to believe there was any in that mess.

“She has to learn to be very careful on her own. There will not be an Ethari all her life saving her when she falls.”

“Runaan, you are talking about a seven-year-old kid.”

“We were lucky, that’s all that matters.”

And despite the horrible experience that Rayla had acquired, and the heavy weight in his heart after assuming the responsibility of it, Ethari knew that Runaan was right. At least, a little bit.

That night, Rayla knocked on their room door and entered crying. She had had nightmares about drowned people that scared her enough to make her unable to go back to sleep alone in her bed. Without complaints, Runaan sat in his bed and looked at Ethari. The man was lost deep in the realm of dreams and by then, it was impossible to wake him. He preferred not to anyway, it would only trigger more guilt in his already ashamed soul. So Runnan helped Rayla to climb the bed and laid her between both of them, returning to sleep immediately after. For that night, she never felt safer in her life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 7 years have passed since the events of the last chapter.

Ethari was forging a new blade, his face was serious with a frown of annoyance. He was sweating to the core, as the molten iron filled the mould. He had a week to forge a powerful dual dagger for Rayla before… _that day_.

His face was filled with disappointment. It did not matter how many arguments he had with Runaan, how much of a prodigy Rayla was, how many reasons Runaan would give him... he knew she was not fit for the role of an assassin. She maybe could even be a fighter, but not an assassin. A protector, not a doer of dirty work.

And now, at only a week away, the first step into catastrophe was going to be given. And like everything in his life, he could do nothing to stop it. Just being a passive witness of it. The mission was not only hard and incredibly difficult, it was going to be Rayla’s first kill.

Her _first_ kill. Her _first_ real mission.

Ethari could not stop worrying about the damage that such action could do on his little girl. He had seen the process once, how Runaan started a race spiraling down, falling deeper and deeper into darkness after his first kill. It had been a dangerous path that had devastated his soul until Rayla appeared in his life. Something as pure as she had contained the unstoppable collapse in Runaan’s soul. He doubted that Rayla could find a similar anchor to hold onto.

And it was not only about Rayla. Ethari deeply feared that this potential break in Rayla could reach Runaan. Nothing good would come from seeing their little girl soaked in blood. Something would break in Runaan too, he knew it. This mission implied to kill a _child_ , again. Something that Runaan had surreptitiously avoided with all his tricks since that first mission. This time it was not going to be possible to simply avoid it. And the thought of losing both at the same time filled Ethari’s chest with despair. It was more than just failing the mission, it was also about being successful. Either way, its consequences were going to be more than impredecible.

Ethari looked at his hands while the iron cooled down in the mould. He had to do something. At least, once in his life.

“There you are.” Runaan said behind him, walking into his workplace. He gave him a peck on his lips and looked at the mould. “Forging something new?”

Ethari sadly smiled. “For Rayla, she broke the last daggers I’ve done for her.” His smile fainted and looked seriously at Runaan.

The good cheer in Runaan disappeared under those brown eyes that were, once again, judging him. He detested how annoying Ethari had become on that matter.

“Please, reconsider this. Don’t take Rayla with you. I beg you. This mission is more than dangerous. You are going to kill a kid… _again_. Or worse: ask her to do it.”

“Not this again, Ethari.”

“Just listen to me…”

“She is capable.”

“She is a child.”

“She is a Moonshadow assassin. I was around her age when I went to my first mission.”

Ethari frowned, throwing his tongs on the desk carelessly. “Have you forgotten what happened to you? How much you changed after your first kill? Did you forget how scare-”

“Don't say it.” Runaan frowned, his voice full of command.

“I'm going to say it, whether you like it or not, Runaan. You were _afraid_ that night. _Scared_. You were a young man and your first mission _broke_ you. Into thousands of pieces. That _I_ gathered. And took _us_ many years to put back together. I can’t believe you forgot that. Are you going to make her live the same?”

Runaan looked at him. Of course he could not forget that. As he could not forget Ethari's arms holding him during some nights to avoid the spread of those cracks along his soul that threatened the patched pieces to break once again.

“She is stronger than me.” Runaan softly said, surrendering a bit to those arguments.

“I can’t believe this...” Ethari frowned at him, disappointed. His sad eyes sinking into Runaan’s. “She is a child. A good natured one. And you want her to break.”

“I want nothing. This is not my decision. We have a mission, and she _has_ chosen. She is coming with me.”

* * *

The week flew by too fast. Despite the argument, and his soft insistence in making Rayla change her mind, Ehtari could not modify the flow of the events. He ended up accepting them, as he had always accepted the brunts of the whimsical storm of life. He had to stop thinking about the matter. Too many years loving an assassin had taught him that the last moments before going on a mission could be the last one of their lives, so he needed to cherish them, even if it meant to mask his deepest despair.

He collected the skeleton of the flowers from the corner of his workplace and brought them with him to the pond. He proceeded with the ritual, giving to Rayla a tight hug and to Runaan a kiss that he wished to never end. Once it was done, all the assassins went to spend the last hours with their loved ones before truly leaving Silvergrove.

Days passed by and turned into weeks, and as Ethari had always done every time Runaan was on a mission, he would spend several nights by the pond, observing the flowers float on the water surface, gasping at sudden flickers, tightening his chest with nostalgia and fear. Sadly, Lain and Tiadrin were not around anymore, they would not come to him bringing a tiny Rayla in their arms to make him forget about the passage of time. Rayla was not around anymore either.

One day, that terrible event finally came. It was during a full moon night, when it was supposed to be that they were at their strongest, when it was supposed to be the day of the attack. The first flower sank. With a soft gulp sound, it plunged into the depth. It had been Lyth’s flower, then Daner’s followed it. Flower after flower, they started to sink.

“No, no, no.” Ethari’s broken voice whispered as his fingertips touched the surface of the pond. After a rush of many flowers sinking, two remained. Rayla’s and Runaan’s. For several days those two brought him hope, even though the elders of Silvergrove started to murmur in the shadows.

_It’s strange. The mission was not accomplished._

_They killed the King only. The Prince is still alive._

_Could the leader had turned softer with the child?_

_The child and the blacksmith always were bad influences on him. We needed him to be efficient. Look what happened._

_I believe he sacrificed the group for the child’s sake._

_But Lyth had two children. What about those children?_

The rumours were killing him, because some degree of truth and falsehood were present in equal measure. He tried not to overthink them. Runaan and Rayla were alive. That was all that mattered. Soon, they would return to Silvergrove, and despite failing at their target, they were alive. _Alive_. _That was all that mattered._

But his joy lasted a week.

That midnight, while Ethari was drinking his tea close to the pond, a soft buzz caught his attention. He looked at the surface of the water, and then… he saw it. Runaan’s flower flickered and sank. He did not want to believe it at first. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. It never emerged again. _It had truly sunk._

Ethari never cried so much in his life. Something was telling him that it could not be the same trick that had happened years ago. He had been working too much to avoid the interference of the Dark Magic with the link. Stubborn, he submerged his hand in the bottom and took the flower, placing it on the surface again, expecting his enchantment were the one to blame. But no matter how many times he did it, the flickering flower simply sank.

It always sank.

His Runaan. He…

_He was gone. Forever._

* * *

The elders met around the pond the following day. Runaan’s flower had changed how they were understanding the situation. They claimed that he was the kind of leader that, if he was alive, he would have brought all the survivors with him back to Silvergrove. But now, that option was discarded. Instead, a child had been the only survivor, and by the look of it, she had abandoned the dangerous situation time ago. She probably was safe, far away from Katolis, running away, as the blood in her veins pushed her to do so.

It was obvious for the Elders that the responsibility for this failure was the only one whose flower was still floating. Rayla had betrayed her group, had abandoned them, and worse of all, had not completed the mission.

The severe words were slurred in those old mouths that kept echoing in Ethari’s grieving mind. The pain was throbbing in his soul, deafening him. But despite all that, he tried to defend the little bit he could understand.

“Rayla is not a betrayer. There must be another explanation.” He said submerged in the stupor of his loss.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” The elders said.

They were going to give her some time. It was obvious to them that the other target, the King’s child, was unreachable by then. A child like Rayla, despite being a prodigy, was not enough to accomplish an assassination of a prince who was probably now surrounded by thousands of soldiers protecting his life. The only way that she could prove her innocence in this failure, at least a little bit, was to return to Silvergrove and to accept her punishment. She would be stripped away from her title and role, and let her live inside the village with the shame that she had failed. But at least, she was going to be alive. In his mind tormented by the pain, Ethari seemed to find peace in that thought.

But that wish did not last either.

Rayla’s flower lasted weeks on the pond, floating proudly, stubbornly. But she never returned.

She never came back. Like Runaan.

* * *

“She is a deserter.” The druids said while everyone gathered around the pond. A new meeting was needed because new measures had to be taken. “She followed her parent’s steps.”

Ethari could only passively hear them, as if they were discussing something too far away from him, as if their voices were distorted in the air. Some memories of Runaan interrupted his attention. It was better to have short drifts from reality. It was too painful to remain in the present. But... every time he drifted back, the words he listened to were worse than knowing he had lost both.

“ _She failed.”_

“ _She could not even endure the responsibility of her failure.”_

The words came clearer, and he blinked, being dragged from his grieving stupor and looked at the elders, confused.

“She brought us shame, as it has done all her bloodline.”

Ethari frowned. “We don’t know what happened.”

“We do.” An old druid said pointing out the flower, “It’s more than evident. Your vision is blurred by grief. You need to trust in us.”

He looked down at the flower, submersed. Maybe it made sense. Or maybe it did not. He could only feel a piercing pain in his chest screaming for Runaan, for a future that now will never be, for every wish that had gone to the void, unfulfilled.

“She has to be banished.” Another druid said.

Ethari did not want to be part of this, so his mind flickered, and from a second to another, he imagined hearing Runaan’s rare laughter echoing in his memory. Then, the intimate kisses he used to spread on his tired bare back as his long hair caressed his sides. The herbal scent of his body. The soft sound of sheets when he used to turn over in the morning. The uneven breathing of their hot bodies. Their nocturnal tea looking at the moon in the silence of the night.

His mind would force him to return to reality sometimes, making him listen to what the elders’ conclusions were, but they only brought him pain. Deep pain. Frustrating pain. The pain of the truth that there was no more future together.

As an alarm, his mind warned him desperately to wake up from the illusions of the past and stop the ritual. Rayla was going to be banned from his existence, like Runaan. But once again those intrusive old voices told him that she was a deserter, a shame, a disgrace.

And he was weak. And hurt. And scared. And unable to tell anyone he was so.

Had she betrayed Runaan? Could it be possible? Had she left Runaan to die? Had she used him to fall in a trap so she could have a distraction to run away? Why didn't she come back? There had to be another explanation… he wanted to be another explanation.

But the voices...

The voices of the elders resounded, repeating over and over that she had betrayed him. Maybe… maybe it was so. His little girl may have killed Runaan out of malice.

_Her first kill... had been Runaan?._

Out of the blue, oblivious to what the elders were truly discussing, he burst into tears, confused and exhausted of so much grief and uncontrollable thoughts. Every fibre of his body was telling him that Rayla was incapable of such evil. But Runaan was dead, somewhere. A rotten body desecrated by humans and consumed to perform evil magic.

And while he cried, the elders cast the spell, removing Rayla from their existence forever.

Ethari felt a deep enormous emptiness growing in his chest. It was the beginning of something that had no end and ate everything around. He felt himself more alone than ever. He had lost both. He had lost everything.

* * *

The news of the fall of Lux Aurea reached the Silvergrove, claiming that a broad army of humans had attacked the core of the Sunfire empire and destroyed their Queen Khessa. As if this news was not bad enough, weeks ago they had received the information that the Dragon Queen had entered into a deep slumber which, sooner or later, would only bring her death.

Ethari could not decide if he had a deep sympathy for the Dragon Queen or a ravaging hate towards her. Her orders--full of thirst for revenge-- had taken away from him the most important people in his life. For that, he resented her deeply. But at the same time, he could understand the unbearable grieving that was withering her chest. She had lost her life partner and her egg as well. They mirrored each other in their sad lonely fates.

The days after Rayla’s banishment were confusing for Ethari, they were filled with memories of Runaan, rushing into his mind at every moment and breaking him into pieces. There were some good days. There were many bad days. Life felt so heavy and meaningless since Runaan’s flower sank. He tended to overwork when his body was asking him to burn that dark energy coming from his rage, but the results--dozens of weapons done in a single day--outraged him even more. More and more weapons to feed this senseless cycle of revenge and war and battles. So the nostalgia and the disappointment would follow, filling his life with heavy days in which he simply wasted time laid on the bed, remembering Runaan’s body in it and his soft voice close to his ear. And Ethari would simply cry over those fragmented memories, heartbroken.

Silvergrove considered he had lost his mind a little bit. To keep Runaan’s presence in his life, he had started to talk to the air during his days of overwork, explaining to an imaginary Runaan why he was crafting what he was doing, how, and who for. Sometimes he would even chuckle at jokes he imagined Runaan would make, or his silly reactions to his own. Ethari only tried to find a way to deal with that heavy loss. Like the Dragon Queen had decided to submerge herself in an endless slumber, he decided to talk to the air, to the moonlight, pouring his pain in each cup of tea drank at midnight. They were the only ways to survive this profound pain.

In his deep desire, he wanted to believe that Runaan was still around him, at least as an immaterial spirit, listening to him. After all, they had made an oath to stay together until death, which was reconfirmed in the privacy of their bed by including the afterlife. And Ethari knew Runaan was a stubborn man that would always fulfil his promises, even though sometimes… it was clear that there existed limitations. Now, Runaan had to be around him, he was not going to doubt it. He did not want to doubt it. Runaan may have failed in that promise of coming back, but he could not do so in the others.

And that was how life was passing by for him, talking to ghosts and staring at reflections with the childish expectation that, one day, he would see his spirit for an instant. Never in his life lamented his lack of magical power nor allowed so many dangerous thoughts cross his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

Indeed. This was worse than death.

Runaan looked at both sides but his eyes could not focus. Up and down happened to be the same. _Nothing_. There was nothing everywhere. His body was suspended in the air, floating in the middle of a thick darkness. The small glow of his painted skin marks were the only source of light he could have. He could barely guess for how long. At least it helped him to see his body, to have certainty that he still existed, somehow, in that lost place. There were no sounds in this world, not even those made by him, and it was so cold. Dark, cold, and soundeless. It reinforced the idea that he was almost dead… but still tragically alive. And that in-between was the worst nightmare he could endure.

His arm had stopped hurting, and the progressive tightness of the binding felt as it had been crystallised too. Same as his hunger, same as his thirst. He could not even have the quiet fantasy of waiting long enough for his body to fall apart. This cursed universe was a little dark box suspended in time as well. As if it did not exist itself. Such an unnerving thought.

From time to time, this dead existence of nothingness was barely interrupted by a circular window, opening in random places. From it, a soft light would come in and a shattered image of the other side could be seen. Touching it felt like a glass, like a mirror, as if he were trapped in its reflection, unable to pass across but being always tortured by a world he could not live in anymore. From that fragment of life, he could see Viren looking at him with that proud demeanour of his. The damned bastard. And sometimes, pretty rarely times, he could see Tiadrin.

The first time he saw her, he thought it had been an illusion; another level of torture coming from Viren. But she was in a space as dark as him, floating without senses, asleep. It was when his memory struck him. He had seen her in a coin, just after Viren threatened him with this torment. It was such a shock to see her in that small rounded piece of image. It was hard to distinguish her figure, but same as him, her soft skin markings glowed in her own darkness helping Runaan to find some shapes on her face.

The few times he saw that image, she was always sleeping. Communication was impossible. Even if she were awake, he knew it was impossible to talk through. His own voice had been mute in this space, and despite feeling it along his throat, no sound could be heard. This thick darkness kept eating up everything, even sounds.

He could only guess that he had ended in one of those coins as well, and now, he was a toy in Viren’s hands. This was the inside. And Tiadrin appearing in the ring, could only mean that both their coins were one over the other in that repulsive bag. So many things from the past made sense in that fraction of a second.

He tried to convince himself that, at least, that soft sleeping figure was enough to give him comfort. That he was not alone in this torment. But it was hard to find comfort in anything surrounded by such suffocating darkness. This place was infusing madness in his head little by little. Maybe sleeping was the only way to resist it.

He lost his sense of time. Hours or days or even years may have passed, it was impossible to be sure. No wonder Tiadrin had opted to sleep. This darkness seemed to take fragments of his memory and eat them up too. It was draining his strength, his warmth, his life, his sanity.

However, as thick as this endless night, the heaviest thoughts of his most bloody sins were still there in his mind, lurking around him, reminding him that there was no forgiveness for him and, maybe, this fate was the only one he truly deserved.

His first mission came as a recursive thought. Over and over, he could sense the burning smell of houses and human flesh filling the air, the screams of desperate parents asking for mercy, the little cries of babies, the taste of too much human blood slipping into his mouth, the shock of watching so many bodies. His hands trembled. Maybe the comfort could be found in thinking this was a fitting punishment for a chain of unspeakable sins. A human punishment which always were worse than elven ones. He sighed, trying to be at peace with that thought. He had always known that he was beyond forgiveness.

More often than not, he wanted to cry, hopeless, under the gloomy thought that time was passing on in Xadia, and he, trapped in this coin, kept failing in his mission. Everyone must have thought of him as dead, when a human monster was running free and had in his hands the worst destructive power in the world. And he could do nothing about it.

The heaviness of his chest was so dense that he wished to be dead. This failure of an existence was the worst that could happen to any creature. And it had happened to him when he still had too much to do.

His only wish was for Rayla to be fine. That she could stop this madness before that mirror could be used against this world. And as it always happened when he kept reflecting on Rayla, he felt weakened. He would meditate over and over about all the events that had happened in that mission, overwhelmed by the thousands of Ifs and potential situations that his mind kept machinating. What if letting Rayla leave the castle with the egg had been the reason why his fellows died? What if he never had left her behind in the Katolis forest? What if he truly put off the mission when Rayla asked him to do so? Was it Rayla’s fault? Or was it his own? He felt so weak and childish.

And when despair wrapped his soul and made him give up, the gentle image of Ethari --his warm brown eyes, his hardened hands, his soft voice--would arise among his deepest fears and guilty sins, and would warm him, giving him some little bit of strength to endure this silent, dark, endless nightmare. He missed him so much.

Edging madness, he would remain playing with the mental images of Ethari, whose arms would welcome his exhausted soul and would let him cry, as he always allowed him to do so. After all, Ethari had always been the only safe place to let his fears take over him. But now, lost in that suffocating darkness, it was impossible for him to stay focussed and brave.

Thinking of Ethari made his chest hurt. That old image of a kid, crying at the edge of the river, hitting his booted feet with a stick came to his mind. He had felt that pain so clear and yet, he never could do anything to soothe it. Same as now. He was crying like Ethari in the same way, at the edge of a pond, and there was nothing he could do. _Nothing_.

He could only remember that _kind_ smile, in that slightly thicker kid, as the image of his face got blurrier and blurrier.

Indeed. This was worse than death.

* * *

“No, you must believe me. Rayla was not a traitor. She is travelling with the Dragon Prince. She didn’t abandon them.” Ethari said in front of the main elders. He had requested their presence around the pond to explain what news he had from Rayla herself.

Two days ago his little girl had found him. Her reflection in the edge of the blade he was working on brought him the bitterness that had been festering his soul for so long and, disappointed, he had left her. He was too wounded to keep eye contact with the person that had abandoned _his Runaan_. But thankfully, he reconsidered it later. There were still so many questions about her flower.

So he looked for her, in the middle of nothingness that the banishment drowned her in, and he found her, sitting on the edge of the pond, looking sadly at the sunken flowers. To hear her voice once again, to embrace her tightly, brought him a gust of life, all of the sudden. Despite the deep sadness consuming his soul, he could smile again, at least, for a brief moment. His little wonderful crooked Rayla was _alive_. That was all that mattered.

His smile became broader when the truth was revealed. He had not been wrong. Despite the pain and confusion, he had been right all along. She had not betrayed them. She had not killed _him_. The revelation made him breathe again with relief, but that was not going to heal the pain. The fact that Runaan was dead remained the same, as well as the fact that he had to say goodbye to his little girl.

During the following days after Rayla’s return, he kept thinking about how to help her. He wanted to wipe that sorrow on her little face when she asked him if she could come back to Silvergrove. As if he were the one deciding those kind of things in the village. In that moment, he could not answer in a better way, but reflecting on the events with a clearer mind and a lighter chest, things started to look less grim.

His Rayla had changed the mission at the last moment and had decided to put an end to this world shattered into pieces. Runaan would be so mad at her, but Ethari could not help but let a long satisfying smile curve his lips. That was his Rayla. The little bit of his own crookedness that, somehow, had imprinted a mark on her.

That brought him strength. The kind of strength he had been lacking for many weeks. No, for his whole life. So he clenched his teeth and stepped out from his lair of sorrows, and requested the elders around the pond once again. He had to explain to them that Rayla was not a traitor, and far from that, she was their hero. But his words made no effect in those minds caged by orders and duties and missions.

“You have to believe me.” He insisted.

The hard frowns and squinted eyes aimed at him were a bad omen. They were not listening. They were not understanding what was at stake.

“Dear Ethari, we know your grief. But you must acknowledge that she has lied to you.”

“She didn’t. I saw the Prince myself. She is true to her word.”

Some elders shook their heads slowly. It was nonsense to believe in the word of a man that had lost his mind with grief. “You said she was travelling with a human. A human! And you believed her words?”

“Please, give her a chance to explain all this. She is… is like a daughter to me. The last family I have. Please.” Ethari said, his eyes full of tears, desperate to hit that thick wall of stubbornness that elders were with, sadly, no results .

“Your head has been affected, Ethari. Do not insist. Otherwise, we should be forced to banish you too.”

Wide open eyes, Ethari frowned in disbelief of what he had just heard. “What?”

“We are overlooking that you allowed a fugitive to have contact with us despite her banishment. You know the rules, Ethari. But we are not heartless. We know your pain, and for that, we won’t take measures about this. But don’t defy us. We are the elders.”

Ethari looked down. He could not understand how this place, this village that had seen him grow and fall and work, was threatening him. The same people that had always told him that he was not good enough to be worth of duties; the same people that always looked at him with pity for his weaknesses, the same people that never put a stop to the ill intended gossips around him and his family, were now threatening him?

He, who had done everything he could to be as good as possible for them, to be good enough for crafting his own humble duty. Was he, the one known by everyone as the weakest of the weak, the one who could never survive the wildness of Xadia alone, being pushed by the wisest elders of Silvergrove?

He had not been brave enough to follow Rayla right after she left him because he thought he was going to be a burden to her, because he was safe here, among the people he worked for all his life. But he realised his mistake. Stepping back, he looked at his calloused hands. For years he had been crafting death tools for them, while they always looked down at him, claiming in the shadows he was always less than anyone. His hands had been crafting the means for them to brag about duties and honour, and were now threatening him?

He was angry. No, furious. He had endured pain and shame for people that was now threatening him because they could not see a different perspective?.

This was enough.

He closed his eyes, and like he had seen Runaan do thousands of times, he breathed in changing his mindset, to open them with a braver attitude.

“Then banish me.” He said straightening his back. The elders looked at one another. “I lost my friends years ago and now my husband. I can't lose her.”

“Should I remind you that she killed your husband?”

“She didn’t do it.” He took another moment to gather more strength, “I can’t live knowing she is out there, fighting a sick cycle we were trapped in for so long. I can’t bear the thought that she may die trying to change this world and I will never see her again. I prefer to share her fate than dying slowly here.”

“Ethari, we know you are grieving, but think. You are weak, we care about you. You will be in danger out there, alone.” A druid tried to cool down the situation. After all, Silvergrove only had one miner and one blacksmith.

He shook his head. “She is my family. What is left of it. I won’t give up on her. Not again.”

The elders shared worrisome looks among them acknowledging that they had reached a dead-end. “Are you sure of what you want?”

Ethari nodded. “If you are not willing to listen to the truth, to help her, if you are not going to cancel her banishment… then I choose her path.”

“So be it. Be careful Ethari. Xadia is a dangerous place for those who have no magic nor strong alliances.”

Ethari nodded, while a chant at unison started. In a matter of seconds, all their faces disappeared, and the sound stopped. Ethari looked around in that deep silence that Moonshadow forest was imbued, and could feel fear slipping along his back. A deep icy fear.

He went to his house for the last time and took all the weapons his body could carry on his back. If humans had destroyed Lux Aurea, it was more than likely that their armies were heading to the Queen, exactly where his little girl was going.

The only two mounts he owned had been given to Rayla and her companion, so his travel was going to be done by foot. The thought made him hesitate as more fear wrapped his heart. But there was no turning back.

Taking the smallest cart he used for ores, he filled it with the rest of the weapons he had crafted during that grieving time and some provisions, and pulled the cart out of Silvergrove in the direction of the Storm Spire. If he was going to walk into a battlefield, he wanted to be sure to be the one providing the best weapons to protect Rayla.

He adjusted a small crossbow on his wrists, the only defence he was going to have besides his enormous blacksmith mace, and left the place. He looked back for a moment at Silvergrove. It had been the place where he spent his childhood, there were so many memories crafted there, especially the ghostly reflections of Runaan. His heart hurt at the thought of leaving those memories there, but closed his eyes steeling himself. He had chosen a new _duty_ after many days of troublesome introspection. If Runaan were alive, he would have chosen the same. Ethari could not be wrong on that. Despite everything, Runaan would have always chosen Rayla.

So now, his _duty_ was with Rayla.

* * *

He crossed the forest and felt the fear soaking his bones. No wonder he had always been seen as lesser. If being a proper Moonsahdow elf was meant to live without fears, he had failed in each level. Fear was everywhere in his thoughts, in every fibre of his body, underneath his skin. The terror to die in the middle of this journey, the dread to find the human army that could kill him or consume his essence for dark magic, or the fear of losing Rayla, wrapped around his chest tightly. Such a broad range of different kinds of dreads kept fleeting around his mind, exhausting him. It was impossible to have a cool head. He wondered if Runaan had always had those thoughts every time he let his walls down surrounded by Ethari’s arms. Were these the burdens that Runaan always left outside Ethari’s house?

Well, at least now he did not need to worry about not following the pure ways of the moonshadows. He had nothing to prove to anyone. Not anymore. He now could embrace that shameful sentiment that, ironically, had always had too much control in his life. Because it was exactly _that_ fear what always convinced him to accept his life in the way it was. Only now, under an honest introspection, he realised that it had always been _this_ fear what ultimately had made his decisions. A fear that now, naked, he could acknowledge and tame.

Lost in his thoughts, he walked close to a lair of a banther mother who without any warning attacked him. She probably thought he was a hunter. Her cubs were behind her, observing with frightened eyes the cart that Ethari was pushing. They probably smelled the iron of the weapons.

He tried to avoid any confrontation, but the mother jumped towards him, blocking his path. She had decided to use him as her cubs’ meal.

“I also have a cub that needs me.” He said, but the beast did not understand him and attacked him with her naked claws.

Knowing that there was no way to reason with her, Ethari aimed his wrist-crossboard to her paw, expecting to make her desist. But faster than him, she clawed at his shoulder. Now it was his life what was at stake. He took his blacksmith hammer with his undamaged arm and used all his strength to hit an enormous piece of stone beside the path. The brutal impact broke it into pieces that slid between him and the beast, making a clear point of the situation. The banther observed the pebble left, then looked at Ethari, and backed off followed by her cubs. Ethari did not waste this apparent ruse and took the cart fleeing away immediately.

Some kilometres ahead, he stopped to treat his shoulder with a dough made of wild fruits that Runaan had taught him some time ago. Despite the initial relief provided by the contact of that mixture against his wound, it did not look well. It was known that the banther’s claws produced some drops of poison that granted a fast infection to those who were wounded. This was going to be a sure fever in a couple of days if his body was resilient enough. In a couple of hours if not.

This changed his plans radically. His intention to surround the Midnight Desert would delay him a week, but his body was not going to resist it. He had no other option than walking in the sand of the desert, pulling his cart and wishing his body could endure the infection long enough until reaching the Storm Spire.

After half a day into the desert, he saw a grey Moonstrider running aimlessly. He did not need a closer inspection to recognise it as Runaan’s mount as well as the effects of a soulfang bite on her. It was not only a bad omen but bad news too. For a moment he thought that maybe his little girl and her human friend did not make it either. The only fact that calmed his grim thoughts under the aggressive Sun while walking on the ardent sand was that he did not find his Shadowpaw around. He was sure that their mounts were going to stick together even in that empty fate if both had been attacked.

By the time the Sun started to set, he felt the feverish sweat covering his temples. He drank some berry juice and ignored the heaviness taking over his body for a couple of hours more. But he knew he could not reach the Storm Spire before the collapse of his body. Even less if he had to keep pushing his cart. And the worst was that it was almost night.

Thankfully, from afar, he saw an ambler slowly approaching him. He knelt on the sand, exhausted, and awaited the creature, using that time to recover, sitting under the shadow of his own chat.

From the high saddle on the ambler’s back, a winged elf flew down to him and crossed her arms. She looked at him and his cart, more interested at the latter. With great effort, Ethari stood up again.

“Who are you? Another Moonshadow elf? Under this Sun?” Nyx said.

Ethari’s breathing was starting to become heavy as a slight headache was pressing his temples. “Can you help me to cross the desert? I’m not in good shape…” He said showing his bloody shoulder to her.

She walked around his cart and lifted the blankets that were covering all the weapons inside. “By the look of it, you are providing an army… is this something related to the Queen?”

“It is. Please, help me.”

She took from the many weapons of the cart a long chain with metallic claws in its extremes and tested it, making it spin and throw it in the air. She loved quick and flying weapons. “This one feels nice. I’ll let you travel with me if you pay me with this.”

Ethari shrugged, he was not in conditions to argue.

That way, Nyx took him and his cart onto the ambler’s saddle.

After a day of travelling, she left him some kilometres away from the petrified Avizandum. However, by that time, Ethari could barely stand on his feet. He tried to push his cart, but the fever was too high, and his body had weakened too much. The heat in his inside made him remember his first month in front of a forge. He needed to cool down if he wanted to continue his journey. It was closer than ever, after all. He walked away some steps searching for a river or a lake closer, and as soon as he found it, he submerged his head into it. The fresh water calmed the melting pain of his temples, but it was useless. His body was collapsing. He laid on his back at the edge and managed to place an arm inside the water.

It was impossible to move his body anymore. He could see the prominent mountain in front of him, just some kilometres away… but his legs had given up. So close, yet so far away.

He thought with sadness that he could not help Rayla as he wanted to, but somehow he was not afraid of dying. There was comfort in the idea of being able to reunite with Runaan on the other side. And while his wish for that dearly reunion became bigger, he could hear the sound of a flap approaching. Maybe it was the sound of death.

At some point, he saw Runaan descending from the skies, with a halo of feathers and brightness everywhere, looking at him with a curious pair of light blue eyes. Death must have taken their beautiful turquoise colour.

“What happened to you?” Runaan said, his voice sounded strange, but it did not matter. Maybe it was the natural change of the voice after death, Ethari assumed.

“Dear… Take me with you….” Ethari smiled, raising the submerged hand to cup Runaan’s cheek.

Runaan’s eyebrows shot up with surprise when those burning fingers touched his fresh face. “You are flying in fever. I need to heal you, but we need to go to the Spire first. You must hold onto my neck. I can’t hold you while flying.”

Ethari did as he was told and hugged Runaan with all the strength that his weakened state allowed him. He felt some soft feathers around him, and for a moment, he thought they were in their bed, sharing lazy caresses in the midday. He even kissed Runaan’s jaw and whispered close to his ear. “I thought I would never see you again…”

“Don’t kiss! No kisses if you don't want us to fall…” Runaan said in a strange high-pitched tone.

Ethari chuckled, noticing how much the man was struggling to make them feel weightless.

“Since when are you so shy? But fine, have it your way… we’ll have fun later…” Ethari said and focused only on keeping his arms tight around the unfamiliar neck.


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing he did when he woke up and saw an unfamiliar ceiling was to sit up on the bed with a violent movement. He gasped in tension and pain. He looked around and found another elf who was squeezing a piece of fabric in a bowl of water. It was a Skywing elf who blinked at him with raised brows, stopping his movements to, probably, measure Ethari’s attitude.

“Uh… hello?” Ethari said at the sight of the elf who had not acquired a threatening stance.

The other elf chuckled, leaving the fabric on the small table beside the bed. “Good to see you are feeling better. And speaking more sense. Pleased to meet you, my name is Ibis.”

Ethari half bowed feeling exhausted. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ethari. I was travelling to the Storm Spire... with a cart… um...”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve brought it here. You reached your destination.”

“Is… is there a chance for you to know another elf called Rayla and a human-”

“Callum. I do, indeed. They are here too. With the Dragon Prince.”

Ethari exhaled out and rested his face in his hands for a moment, feeling a deep relief of the dark fears that had been squeezing his heart during his entire journey across the desert. Only then he looked at his bandaged shoulder realising that he was wearing lighter clothes and his torso was naked. Then, he looked at Ibis with raised brows.

“I suppose you were the one who took care of me. Thank you, I’m sorry for the troubles.”

“Do not mention. Rayla was taking care of you too. We took turns. You were delirious for two days.”

He blinked, “I can’t remember anything.”

Ibis looked at him intrigued, his vivid light blue eyes moving from Ethari’s shoulder to his eyes, to the ambryths on his horns. “Better that way.” He chuckled and left him alone.

After a moment, Rayla walked into the room. When she saw Ethari awake, she ran to his bed, and both hugged each other again, tightly, this time taking a moment longer to enjoy the contact. There was no counter-spell hurrying them. But the hug had to stop when Ethari let a hiss of pain escape. His shoulder was truly hurting. She sat on the edge of the bed and remained with her hands on his, looking at each other gently.

“Ethari, what are you doing here?” Her tone had no reproach but a deeply worried intonation.

He smiled tenderly. “I should have followed you when you came. I’m sorry. I’ve been making so many mistakes lately. When I realised it, it was too late. I’ve lost so many people. Not you too.”

Rayla twisted her lips while squeezing his hands, feeling the deep relief to know that she had not lost everything. Ethari was still there, with her, in his own way.

* * *

After another day of resting, Ethari could finally get up from the bed and walk around the place. Bored for so much time stuck in a room he asked Ibis to show him the Storm Spire, who without complaint did so.

Ethari would have never imagined himself walking so freely across the lair of the Royal Dragon family. The Storm Spire was considered almost sacred, the place where the nest of the future heir had been laid. However, putting aside the idealisation of the Dragon Family with which he had been raised in the Silvergrove, he did not forget his own bitterness. Along those enormous rooms open to the skies, decorated with many pictures of Dragons shown in epic and heroic situations, hundreds of moonshadows had perished over the centuries; directly defending the royal family as Dragonguards or indirectly under their orders thirsty for revenge. In either case, there was not a single monument to the elven blood split in the draconic name.

Ibis showed him with great pleasure the abandoned forging room. The mithril veins proper of the mountain where the Storm Spire had been built could be easily seen all on its walls, and magical burning embers remained in perpetual incandescence at a corner of the room. With a single flick of the wrist of any blacksmith, they could be turned into intense flames. The orange colour of the molten ambient mixed with the turquoise reflections of the mithril veins, make them glow softly. Although this place had been abandoned for ages, it still looked vivid due to its magical properties.

"This room belonged to a Sunfire blacksmith that ages ago served Sol Regen." Ibis said. "You can use it at your discretion."

Ethari smiled. Despite his wounded shoulder, he certainly felt the need to hammer some ignited metal just to release his tension. But he was going to reserve the pleasure for later. Maybe during midnight. Nothing better than working under the moonlight.

Going up across the many rooms of the Storm Spire, they reached the room where the Queen was submerged in her slumber. Ethari gasped when he saw her. It was the first time he saw her. During all his life he had been serving a creature he had never met personally, he never imagined the colossal proportions of this dragon, neither her colour nor her fresh scent. He blinked at the peaceful slow breathing that moved gusts of wind around the room in swirling ways.

“She has not eaten for weeks. If she dies, I fear who would take care of the Prince. We, the Skywings, may raise him, but you cannot compare. He is a dragon, not an elf. He needs his own kind.”

Ethari sighed. He stepped in, and curious, touched the tip of the Queen's snout. It felt painful beyond her skin made of scales. He could be bitter all he wanted about her but he also understood her pain too well. Somehow, their same loss connected them more than the expected hierarchy.

“We tried to bring the Prince to see his mother in her ill-bed, but he refused to see her. He is not ready for this picture.”

Ethari closed his eyes, pressing his forehead on her.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” He whispered softly, leaning all his weight against that massive face. “I always had my questions about you, about the King. I still have… but right now, that doesn’t matter. If you hear me, wake up. Your little one needs you. I know how tough it is. But be strong. For your little one.”

But nothing out of what was expected happened. He patted her head and retraced his steps approaching Ibis. By then, Rayla was standing by Ibis’ side and looking at Ethari with a sad face. He caressed her cheek lightly and rested his hand on her shoulder. Both shared a weak smile.

"Rayla, please, show him the pinnacle." Ibis said leaving them both alone.

She nodded at him and took Ethari’s hand pulling him to the stairs. They walked outside, in time to contemplate the sunset and appreciate the unique scenery that the pinnacle of the Storm Spire had to offer. They sat on the edge of the highest platform and observed in silence the slow transitioning of the sky into night. Soon, the moon appeared at their East, bigger than ever and wrapped around clouds.

Rayla looked at him, her usual purple eyes had a grey hue due to the sadness. Ethari curved his lips in a melancholic smile and squeezed her shoulder pulling her closer to him. She followed suit.

“Now we have more time to talk…” He said.

“I’m sorry, Ethari.”

Her words were dropped immediately, soft and grieving, unable to hold them longer in her chest. Her tone was enough for Ethari to grasp her meaning, but he simply shook her shoulder and pretended not to understand them. Then, she put her face against Ethari’s chest. She had missed that feeling of protection and safety that such a place always meant to her when she was a child. It was sad that it could not protect her from her mistakes, especially the ones that left so many dead behind.

“Why are you saying that? There is nothing to apologise for. Well, except that time you broke that beautiful Moonlight Orb I had for my enchants.” He placed a kiss on her head and chuckled.

She tensed her shoulders and drew back, horror spread all over her face. “I had forgotten about that.”

“I didn’t.”

Both laughed, relaxing the mood. Ethari reached for her hand again and covered it with both of his.

“Now we have more time, would you… could you… tell me how things happened? In detail, I mean.” Ethari finally said.

Rayla looked at the moon, closed her eyes for a second and started to narrate the story. Since the moment they had reached the Human Kingdoms, until when she fought against Runaan, the last time she saw him alive.

With a sad smile and wiping out some rebel tears that kept escaping his eyes, Ethari snorted. “I knew you could not be a betrayer. You could have never killed him. He sent you home.”

“What?” She raised a brow.

“Before you left, Runaan and I talked many times about your training. I kept insisting that you had a very compassionate heart for that work. He promised me he would test you in the field. If you were not fit for becoming an assassin, he would send you home safe, with me, and he would forget the idea of turning you into one. And he was planning to do it, it seems. He always was true to his words. He protected you.”

“But, until that moon moth… He thought I had “ _taken_ ” already. I showed him the blades…”

Ethari laughed covering his mouth with a hand. “Do you think he couldn’t distinguish blood from berries? You are insulting him. He had been killing for more than twenty years. He was always sensitive to the scent of blood. I tell you, you never fooled him.”

“But...” She said disappointed and soon, after the thought sank in her mind, she frowned. “You mean… He knew all along and pretended not to? Just to fool me?”

“Not only _you_ , his fellows too.”

She blinked, horrified. “He went into a mission knowing I was going to fail him?”

"You always had incredible gifts, Rayla. Failure is just a matter of perspective. As an assassin, you never _failed_ for lack of talents but excess of heart." He sighed thumbing Rayla’s hand. “I told him many times to consider it. Thankfully, he did in the last moment. But things had gone too out of control by then. He could have accepted to return with the egg… but he had already changed the plan too much by his own doing, by that test he put on you. His fellows got killed, you appeared in the castle, the Prince escaped. Too many variables that he could not control.” He pressed his lips in a thin line and looked down at the pinnacle. “He must have felt that the mission failed due to his own whim. That’s why he didn’t return. He… he… he chose something else than returning home. He felt ashamed.”

"You can't say that.... He would have never chosen death over you."

"No. Over me, no. Over _duty_."

That dark word hid so much pain that turned their blood into ice. They remained silent as that last cursed word lingered in their minds.

“I’m so sorry, Ethari.”

"Me too, Rayla. Me too."

He touched her jaw with a fingertip and raised it. Both of them had their eyes full of tears. Ethari smiled warmly.

“But I’m more than proud of you. You never _failed_ to me.” A tear fell from his eye. “You didn’t turn into him. And I’m thankful and proud of that.”

She frowned a bit confused. “Did you hate Runaan for killing?”

“Hate? Never. But I didn’t like it. I loved him, I always will. But loving while accepting all his sides is one thing. Liking all his sides, is another.”

Rayla looked at Ethari’s hands, frowning slightly. The meaning of those words was a bit dark for her but it seemed to hide deep wisdom.

Ethari continued, “You didn’t know how Runaan was before becoming an assassin. He changed too much after his first kill. He broke. Over time, he learnt to be two persons in one. The one you always saw at home, the other… the cold man you saw at war. That side of his… it always scared me.”

“But he would have never hurt you.”

“I know.” He sighed deeply and looked at the moon, “Runaan made so many sacrifices because someone told him he had a talent for killing. All his life was that. To train to become a killer. As a young man, he even rejected the few scraps of tenderness he could find because he knew he had to be cold. When he broke, he had to learn how to coexist with the ruthless man soaked in blood that _duty_ had built within him with the kind man who he truly was. It was always _Duty._ ” He frowned at that cursed word for a fraction of a second. “When you are meant to protect, but someone else tells you that you have to kill including innocent ones… something inside you breaks. I feared the same could happen to you...” He tendered his eyes and looked at her, squeezing her hands.

Rayla was not a stranger to those words. She had listened to Ethari thousands of times questioning the Moonshadow ways when she lived with him and Runaan. She remembered how Runaan would roll his eyes at those grumpy words and ignore them. But there were few times in which Rayla saw him paying special attention to Ethari’s words, and she was sure that he had allowed them to sink in his stubborn head. At least, to a certain degree.

“But look what you earned with your _failure_.” Ethari said, pushing her shoulder with his, “A great opportunity for peace. And an Earthblood elf friend.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Pleeeease.”

Ethari chuckled. “He is quite a human. Ibis told me he is a… mage? Without a primal stone? I feel jealous!”

“Yes. He is! You had to see him that time he did a spell of lightning that almost killed us all, but also saved me and… when he wanted to teach Zym about his powers, he went to a peak of a mountain waiting to be hit by lightning. And-”

Rayla continued talking without end about the many adventures she had shared with Callum. Ethari observed how her eyes glinted and her smile became bigger the more she narrated. It made him remember a warmth inside his chest, a teenage feeling.

“-He is a bit silly sometimes, like… that time he presented himself to you as an elf? For Moon’s sake, subtlety is not his strong point, I know.”

Ethari laughed softly, “I see. So he is the prince of Katolis.”

“His brother.”

Ethari smiled keeping his words to himself. There was a deep irony caressing his back. A human and an elf. Would these new times engage into these old relationships that were forgotten and prohibited for ages? The thought inspired in him fear and relief. Maybe change had to come in this shape. In a weakened form for them, in a strengthened way for the humans.

He patted Rayla’s back before speaking again. “Well, I guess it is time to sleep. I will stay in the forge, working on some extra weapons for the upcoming battle.”

“But your shoulder.”

“I’ll manage.”

They stood up from the edge and looked at the moon for one more time.

Rayla frowned, something was bothering her. “But… Don’t we have enough weapons already?”

“I’ll focus on support devices. Smoke bombs, dazzle explosions, arrows.”

Her frown deepened. There were no archers in the configuration of the battle that Amaya had explained that afternoon. “Arrows? Who for?”

“I will join the battle.”

She opened her eyes wide, grabbing Ethari’s forearm. “No! You can’t, Ethari. You don't know how to fight. And you are wounded.”

He smiled tenderly and thumbed her cheek, “I know, believe me, I’m… I didn’t lose my mind _that_ way. I’ll use a bow, beside Callum. Dizzy arrows for those on the ground. It will help to fight the big numbers. And if someone gets too close to him… I have my mace. That’s how I can contribute with this war.” He poked Rayla’s cheek until she grabbed his hand and held it between hers. “You always were smart and sharp.”

“But Ethari… you’ve never killed.”

“You haven’t either.”

They stared at one another, bathed in the moonlight.

Rayla let a long and loud sigh come out from her chest. “I thought you didn't like battles.”

“I hate war. Year after year, I had to forge my loved ones’ weapons, their sinking flowers, and their grave amulets. All that blood spilt for _stupid duties_.”

Rayla twisted her lips. That was a big word to be accompanied by a sacred one. “Ethari…”

“I know, I should not say it. Not aloud at least, but we all know we hate this. Those _duties_ turned your parents into pariahs, killed Runaan, and banished you. I’m too tired, Rayla. I don’t want to craft more weapons that sustain this madness nor mementos to bury our dead. I want this war to end.”

“But… Ethari… what would you do in the Silvergrove if you don’t forge.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He said averting his eyes immediately.

“But…”

“I’m not going to return.”

“But where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

Rayla squinted her eyes. She knew Ethari was hiding something. “What are you not telling me?”

He sighed, defeated. He was terrible at lying or even omitting. “I’m banished too.”

“WHAT!?”

“I could not bear the thought of having you leave that way. I was blind with pain when I allowed them to banish you from my life. But when I saw you again… I… I realised…. my mistake. I’ve tried to convince the Elders to cancel your banishment, but… they didn’t listen to me.. so.. “

She gently punched his chest, “Runaan would have killed you.”

Ethari forced a sad laugh as some repressed tears made his eyes glossy. “Yeah. He would have.” Then he took her hands and looked at her full of regret. “Rayla, forgive me. Forgive me for having been so weak.”

“Ethari. You are far away from being weak.” She hugged him strongly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I headcanon Ethari fighting in that last episode, in a similar way he fought against the banther mother. He was there, beside Callum, to protect him. He also fought for a moment against Kasef, until that lost arrow (from Anya) got rid of him. His participation in this battle was not truly important, more like a support/defensor of the “small mage” [mainly because this small mage is important for Rayla and he wants to protect her from the pain he is feeling for losing Runaan], and he ended up not killing anyone directly. I didn’t think it was suitable to rewrite a scene of the show to display so little, so that’s the reason for this comment here. Next chapter will be the day after the big battle.


	14. Chapter 14

The battle was finished, but that did not mean that their future was well defined now nor that the war had been prevented successfully. There were still many problems to deal with all over Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. But for now, they focussed on the wounded soldiers, spread in all the rooms of the Storm Spire, and in the good news of Zubeia finally awakening.

Ibis and Callum took care of the fighters, while the ones who could still stand on their feet secured the area and investigated the surroundings looking for Viren. Janai was the main one interested in this objective and especially leading it.

This investigation, however, had been fruitless. There was no sight of Viren’s lifeless body, and only a few of his belongings were found in a cave with a strange broken cocoon and blood on the ground. Hoping to find some new leads, Janai placed the collected items on the table of the main room in the Spire and called everyone to see them. Any new insight, even the smallest, could be useful.

It was all that her soldiers could find. The dented crowd covered in blood, the old staff of Viren that could be used as a cane, and a bag with four plain coins. Her soldiers also informed them that the cave where they found all those items displayed a long trail of blood which ended in a thick red pool. Several elven soldiers were found drained in that cave as well, suggesting the use of dark magic or worse. They could not be sure if the broken cocoon had to be related with that bloodshed.

Everyone looked at the elements displayed on the table without much to say. Ibis only brought his attention to the bag.

“This feels as if it were filled with Dark Magic.” He said when he took a coin and observed it in his hand. The surface was almost plain.

Rayla frowned. “ _That_. Viren told me that he wanted to add me to his collection of moonshadows. And he showed me that bag.” She got closer and took another coin. Same as Ibis, she could only see a smooth surface.

Ethari shivered at the unnerving thought.

“Yes… I remember that.” Grem interrupted catching everyone’s attention. “When Viren got me in his dungeon… he… he tortured one of the assassins of the King. He did something to him… and then he came out of the cell, he was playing with one of these coins in his fingers. I couldn’t see anything else… but I heard the screams… and I bet it was something hideous.”

Rayla and Ethari both opened their eyes wide.

“Can you describe this moonshadow elf you speak of?” Ethari said displaying a degree of nervousness.

Grem looked up at the ceiling and scratched his stubble. “Tall. Pinkish skin. White hair.”

Rayla huffed and rolled her eyes. _Humans_. “Can you be more specific?” She insisted.

“He was in bad shape.” He looked at the ground and then smiled, raising his index finger as if he had got the best description of all. “One horn.”

Ethari and Rayla looked at each other again, lost in the meaning of such detail.

“Long hair. Like… too long.” Gren touched his hip while saying that.

Only then Ethari gasped and closed his eyes, hurt. “This is why his flower lasted longer than the others. He was… oh, Moon… he was... tortured… for a while.”

Ethari approached the table. Steeling himself, he took the bag and opened it. He took each of those coins and saw their smooth surface. There was something in them, some shadow he could not see properly. He felt the sickness rising from his fingers along his arm and strangling his throat. A lost memory in the deepest part of the moonshadow forest and a lost disgusting sensation came to his mind. His hand trembled, and scared, he dropped the coins into the bag again.

Rayla and Callum approached him and observed him curiously.

“Callum, any thoughts?” Rayla said.

The boy took a coin and flipped it on his palm. Nothing. Sadly, he did not know any spell to reveal secrets. He bet it was part of the moon magic that he was still too much of a stranger to. He only took the magical cube from his bag and approached it to the coins. No element was glowing, confirming his thoughts. This was a dark magic issue, only possible to be fixed with more dark magic.

Focussed on his own, Ethari was frowning, thinking in all those magic books he had read since he was a child, skimming each of them in his mind, page after page, at great speed, remembering, mumbling some elven phrases. Nothing about coins, about metals that could be used to collect moonshadows. But then, from the most ashamed corner of his mind, he remembered _that book_. And a purple page appeared in his mind, a bit blurry, with scraps of information lost because of time and shame. There was a spell about trapping creatures in reflective surfaces. That had to be.

“Rayla. Can you give me your blade?” He asked softly.

Surprised by the petition, she did not give any resistance and gave him one of her daggers. Ethari slightly cut his palm and smeared his blood on the blade. He whispered an elven phrase and the blood spread so thin over that surface that only tinged it with a soft layer of a red colour. Then, he took the coin and placed it on the blade forming an angle that would allow him to see the reflection of the coin on the surface of the weapon. And there it was. A small horned figure, floating in something that looked like a void. But it had no long hair. The face of the creature was impossible to distinguish, since it was too small, as if it were floating too far away from the small precarious window he had opened to peek into it. The lack of movement made him suspect that maybe that body was not even alive, and this was a method to preserve the body of an elf to use later for their twisted magic.

Rayla gasped. “Is someone trapped there?”

“Is this moon magic?” Callum asked, a bit surprised by the use of blood.

Ethari sighed. This was probably the only spell he could do, the easiest one of his people; a trick to see the hidden magic trapped in reflections as long as a small offering of such type of magic could be given as a guiding clue. And after Ibis’ remark, he knew he could use his blood since it had been tainted years ago.

One thing was to see the trapped bodies in the coins, but reverting this spell was another entirely. He could not remember the spell written in _that_ purple sheet of paper that his mind was keeping as a blurry memory. At least not as well as he could do with any other moon spell. It was natural, moon magic books had never been forbidden in the Silvergrove. The only time he got that purple book in his hands, it had been traumatic and for a short period of time. It had also been a resort out of desperation; a hopeless last option coming from the West, trying to find an answer which only brought him nightmares, shame, and pain. So he forced himself to forget anything about it, about those twisted spells, about that damned purple book. But now, he was regretting that cowardly attitude.

“This is Dark Magic indeed.” Ethari said and looked at Ibis who had been observing them with curious yet suspicious eyes. “Can we ask the Queen about this? Maybe she can do something.”

Ibis nodded and left the room just to return minutes later informing that she had allowed a short meeting but he had to accompany them. So they did.

With Zym at her paw, the Queen observed the three elves and the human to step in. They approached to reach her face; she squinted at them. Then, she wrinkled her nose and as if it were a nervous reaction, she bared her teeth.

“There is the stench of death.” She said, looking at Ibis who raised his eyebrows and snapped his head towards his companions.

“Oh no, not this again.” Rayla hit her forehead with her palm while Callun took a long deep breath not to panic. “Queen. It was an accident... a desperate movement.” She started to say.

But the Queen only looked past Callum to fix her eyes on Ethari. She remained silent, expecting the elf to talk, but he stared back, his chin up, his eyes glossy. He swallowed hard.

“You reek of death…” She repeated, smelling Ethari once more.

Ethari looked aside, his voice clear but filled with regret. “It’s been a long time.”

Everyone blinked and looked at Ethari with wide open eyes. Nothing made sense from what they inferred. Ibis was even agape. He had never heard of an elf resorting to that magic.

“How dare you…. use your own kind to perform that atrocity… From a human I would have expected it… but from your kind?” Zubeia said, her tone was not angry, but full of disappointment.

“I also would have expected from a wise Queen not to throw her most loyal subjects to their certain death out of a whim of revenge. But here we are anyway.” Ethari’s eyes became hard on the Queen, his face was serious.

“Are you disrespecting me, moonshadow?”

Zym grunted, sensing the tension of the place.

“No. You disrespected me when you threw my husband to his death. So, don’t tell me anything about my stench.”

Some electric sparkles jumped from the Queen’s massive body. The silence of the room was deafening, not even their breathing was heard. The tension was building up and as a ticking bomb, everyone knew it was going to explode at any second. But then, out of the blue, Zym chirped putting an end to that tension. The Queen as well as Ethari looked at the little Dragon Prince, and sighed to release their own uneasiness.

“Owwwhh… Um… I don’t know what to think about this.” Ibis said, his eyes jumping from Ethari to Zubeia.

But Ethari continued, as if nothing had happened. He showed Zubeia the coin he had been holding in his hand and lifted it to her snout. “There are bodies trapped in the coins’ reflection.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Free them?” Ethari’s voice changed slightly, becoming a bit harder than his usual one. Rayla could even bet there was a hint of sarcasm in it. She was deeply surprised to see this side of Ethari, one she could never even imagine he had.

“That’s Dark Magic. I can’t do anything about it.”

“And you don’t know anything about trapping someone on a reflected surface? Let’s say, a mirror?” Ethari squinted at her. His voice was deeper.

Once again they stared at each other, measuring the other’s face, until the Queen spoke slowly, “No.”

Ethari’s nostrils flared.

“I won’t take any measures about this stench. Many mistakes had been made in the last few years. No one is free of them. But do not defy me.” She said with deep tiredness.

Rayla took Ethari’s hand and pulled him out of the room fearing that so much stress on him could induce him to do something reckless. After all, it was more than clear that the Queen was not going to help.

Once again in the main room, she stepped in front of Ethari and without minding about Callum and Ibis presence, she asked him directly. “Ethari, what was that? What… What the Queen said. Is… is that true?”

“I… I thought that only humans could do it….” Callum said in a whisper.

Ethari sighed. “It was a mistake. I’ve learnt from it. But now… “ He looked at the coin in his hand, and his heart leaped. “... I wish I could have learnt more, remember more. There is a spell for this, I remember half of the page. If… If I could have a tome…”

“Ethari-” Rayla said, her tone full of reproach.

“What do you want from me? I don’t see another way. Dark Magic may help them… may… maybe Runaan…. maybe we can recover his body…. give him proper burial.” He said with tears in his eyes and gave the coin to Rayla.

“Runaan knew about this?”

Ethari shook his head. Everyone’s silent eyes upon him made him nervous. He remembered all those looks on him when he was a child, pity and disappointment for being weak, for being talentless, for having no clear role to fulfil. The stray one, the cursed one, the shameful one. He could not endure that memory while seeing Rayla despise him.

So he frowned, clenching his fists; his voice came out deeper, almost hoarse, “I know what you all are thinking. So clear in your faces. I’m weak, I have no magic. I never had. My enchants failed, and people were at risk for that. Runaan… Runaan could have died because of my weakness. So I looked for answers everywhere…. Don’t look at me like that.” He observed each of them for a moment; Callum, the human mage connected with the sky; Ibis, the great mage among the skywings; Rayla, a prodigy of the Moonshadows. “All of you were gifted, were born special. But those who don’t… those who are always disappointing everyone’s expectations… _those_ make mistakes. _Many_ mistakes. And if this is the last mistake I have to do to recover a little bit of all what I lost… I will make it. I won’t hesitate anymore. I’ve been doing it all my life.”

Rayla stepped forward, trying to reach Ethari’s forearm and stop him from keeping on this misunderstanding. But her face, full of pity despite being well-intentioned, made Ethari dislike it furiously. Pity and disappointment; he was sick of such emotions.

She touched his forearm, but before she could grab him, he simply took her hand and gently released it in the air.

“Ethari…” Both of them observed each other, establishing a communication that only they could understand. Slowly, Ethari’s frown soothed, and his sad eyes lowered to the ground, surrendered.

Finally, he spoke without that incipient anger, “I… I’m sorry, but I need to be alone…”

He left the main room as everyone looked at his back in dead silence.

* * *

The Storm Spire was full of wounded soldiers being recovered; there were not many places to be alone. For that reason he went to the most beautiful one, carrying with him an improvised tea box with several cups. On the last stairs of the Pinnacle, he sat and observed the moon--enormous, surrounded by clouds while a fresh breeze moved them slowly. The place exuded a beautiful sentiment of loneliness, nostalgia, and freedom. He could not avoid the sad memory of happy past nights, drinking tea under the moonlight by Runaan’s side.

After some hours of peaceful reflection and remembrances, the sound of flapping wings caught his attention. He looked at the sky and saw Ibis landing softly on the platform to immediately unsummon his wings.

“I did not know you were here, enjoying the view. Beautiful, wouldn’t you say so?” He had been doing this patrol almost every day. There were no remnants of armies or enemies easy to see from the sky, nor any clue that may lead them to Viren’s body either.

“Yes. The moon here is beautiful. It feels different on the skin.”

“Forgive me the interruption then…” Ibis started to walk down the stairs to check on the wounded, but Ethari stopped him.

“You may not have fought in this battle, but you have been working non-stop so far. Do you want to enjoy the breeze? I don't mind the company. I had enough of my own thoughts already.”

Ibis smiled and retraced his steps to sit by Ethari’s side who poured some hot tea on another cup and extended it to Ibis.

“Tea?”

Ibis frowned at the cup and then looked at those brown gentle eyes “Did you come here to drink alone yet you have extra cups?”

“You never know how many unexpected guests you can have during your midnight tea?” Ethari smiled one of those sad smiles that allowed Ibis to infer that, in that moment, fleeting memories of his late husband crossed Ethari’s mind.

With a short nod, Ibis accepted the gesture and took the cup. Both looked at the moon while some minutes of silence followed. Then, out of the blue, or maybe a bit uncomfortable by that quietness so proper of the Moonsahdows, Ibis broke the moment.

“How is your shoulder?”

Ethari touched it. A pair of marks were going to remain there as scars. “I'm almost healed. And I didn’t have the opportunity before but… thank you. It was thanks to you that I did not die on my way here.”

Ibis smiled enigmatically.

The silence was restored once more as the breeze kept slowly moving clouds in front of the moon.

“You and the Queen don't get along.” Ibis said.

“From where did you pull out that strange idea?” Ethari said. Then, both chuckled. “I explained myself. The King and the Queen had always asked expeditions that massacred humans and destroyed their subjects’ sanity. I was married to one of them. I know what I’m speaking of.”

“The King and the Queen had always had their best interest in Xadia. They are wise.”

Ethari looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is it wise to send novice assassins to slaughter human towns? Is it wise to kill their babies and spread terror for more than a year in their own lands? Or maybe the question is… wise for who?”

Ibis blinked while the calm words sunk in his mind. “Did… did they ask… for that?”

“Ask? Never. They never _ask_. They _order_. It was against Neolandia Kingdoms. Runaan was never the same after that mission. Tell me to trust in the Queen with closed eyes.” Ethari huffed in disdain. “I can’t.”

“They protect us from the humans hunting us for their sick magic.”

“Because Xadia is so powerless to defend itself.”

Ibis looked at him with a raised eyebrow and took a long sip before speaking again. “In any case... I didn’t mean that… I did not ask you that question hiding a judgement in it. I believe in the freedom of choosing whom to serve.”

“And do you choose to serve the Queen?” Ethari said.

“I served her in her sick bed, and I still do. She is not fully recovered yet. My loyalty lies there.” Ibis pointed out in the distance and conjured a torbellino that pierced across the clouds separated them apart. Far away, under the clear sky, bathed in moonlight, the figure of Avizandum turned into stone could be seen. From the Pinnacle, it was a small figure but still big enough to distinguish it.

Ethari observed it.

“She has been seeing this every day, every time her eyes crossed the arcs of Storm Spire. Having her mate petrified in her garden unbalanced her mind.” Ibis’ voice was soft and tinged with sadness.

Ethari’s eyes hardened, but they kept glossy anyway. “Do you expect me to have sympathy for her? I don't even have a body to place my prayers.” He looked at his tea. “I'm not a stranger to her loss and pain. I know them in my own flesh. But the King and the Queen fed this situation. They kept doing the same with us. With... Runaan.” His voice quivered, “They ordered a slaughter in Neolandia, decades ago. And when the humans came for revenge and accomplished it, the Queen sent us _again_ to kill more humans. She never had compassion for us. For _our_ families.”

“She was grieving the loss of her egg and her mate. It was sad.” Ibis said.

“Sad was what they ordered decades ago. Sad was the shape in which their subjects returned from that mission. Sad was watching how many people lost their loved ones out of a draconic whim.”

Ibis sighed and took another sip, “I trust better times will come.” He looked at the sky, closed his eyes, and felt the breeze caressing his face and hair. “So many centuries of too much conflict shall not be easy to erase.”

“I doubt they can be fixed in the short term. But I trust my child's heart.” Ethari smiled. “She broke old rules to change the course of the events.”

“The question is... Would she trust in you?” Ibis asked, his curious eyes blinking as his enigmatic smile curved his lips. He was entertained in understanding Ethari.

“What do you mean?”

“You... smell of death.”

Ethari sighed. “No judgements you said.”

“I’m just curious, not judgemental. Why? How? It’s unheard of such magic from our own kind.”

“Is it?” Ethari observed the dark surface of his tea. Part of the clouds were reflected there. “Do you want the whole story? Well, I was too young. I had to understand Dark Magic to fix my enchants that kept being blocked by it. I experimented with it a couple of times too, to see if my enchants could be stronger. It was only a few times. It was tempting and easy. And I followed suit. But… The feeling of rotting corpses inside me, the shadows covering everything, the cold on my back. The despair. I dropped it. Never tried it again. It… it did something with my own essence. It weakened it.”

“Your… your essence? But why did you try it? your arcanum would have sufficed…”

Ethari forced a breathy laugh, “My arcanum connection has always been a joke. When you are so weak that you almost feel like a human… you resort to human means. It’s natural. I thought it could make me stronger. It didn’t. So I dropped it. End of the story.”

Ibis hummed enigmatically, measuring every word from Ethari. Then, he squinted at him, “But...Would you try it again if it means saving the ones you love?”

“Don't be so cruel to me. That’s a terrible question to answer. And you know the answer anyways.”

Ibis chuckled taking a long sip, “I see. That’s quite the answer itself. Your honesty is much appreciated.”

The sound of footsteps stopped their conversation and remained observing the lower part of the stairs, waiting for the incoming figure to appear. It was the little humans, the princes of Katolis, in company with the Dragon Prince.

“Uh. Hello.” Callum said, rubbing the back of his neck at the curious gaze of both elves.

Ibis nodded at them while Ethari prepared two more cups of tea. “Hi my Tree-umphant Earthblood friend. Some Tree?”

Callum chuckled as Ezran frowned at him, lost in the inner joke. Ibis also observed him, curious, but he said nothing. The little princes took the tea and drank in silence for a while.

“Nothing better than appreciating this landscape while drinking good tea.” Ethari said.

“Um… Ethari, I’ve been thinking….” Callum started, “We three were talking about this for a while.”

Erzan nodded energetically while Zym chirped happily.

“You were asking for one of these…” Callum took from his bag a tome of dark magic. The one that he had stolen from Claudia that fateful day in which he used this cursed magic for the first and last time. Ethari opened his eyes wide, and Ibis let his worry be transparent on his face. “I know, I know. I used it once. Just once, never again. It was a mistake. I’m not proud of it…”

“But he saved Rayla and a dragon from being killed.” Erzan added as Zym nodded.

Ethari’s face changed suddenly, and a sad smile curved his lips. That was enough for him. He would have done the same in his place, probably. “You did well.”

Ibis’ eyes jumped from Callum to Ethari. _Now_ he was more than worried.

Callum twisted his lips and observed him not sure if his words hid a shred of sarcasm, “Are you not mad? You know… usually everyone gets mad at humans using it.”

“Not me, not this time. I’ve married an assassin for years… after a while, your perceptions of what’s right from what’s wrong shift a little bit. Rules should not be so rigid as they are. They never have room for exceptions or oddities.”

Ibis hummed, the comment had brought him some tranquillity. “You have a Skywing core.”

Ethari chuckled. “If that were true, that would explain so many things.”

“Well…” Callum said softly shaking the book in the air. “I have stolen this from… from someone else when I used it for the first time… I only read it, to know the power it has. We… we were thinking if this was wise… and well, the Queen is not going to help, so… if this is important to you…”

Ethari took the book with a grave demeanour, “Did Rayla know?”

“I asked her and she considered it had to be your decision. You always respected her decisions… so...”

Ethari took the book, put it on his lap and rested his palm on it. It made him feel sick. “I’ll read it before deciding.”

Zym chirped in front of Ethari, approached him and licked his hand. Erzan translated it. “He said you are allowed to use a bit of his energy for that spell.”

“What!?” Ibis’ voice became high-pitched with surprise.

Ethari widened his eyes enormously as his eyebrows shot up. “I won’t use the Dragon Prince's essence”.

“Is it a reflective spell, right?” Callum said, gently taking the tome from his lap and opening it on a particular page. “Look, this is the chapter. They are minor spells. They only need a bit of energy from a magical creature, just to activate the reflection.”

Ethari looked at that page and then he snorted. “You are thinking like a human.”

“Well… my bad, I guess?” Callum said.

“I have my own for that.” Ethari sighed deeply.

The sick frustration of being unable to perform a decent enchant in his flowers had led him to see that kind of twisted magic once. Especially when his magical tricks failed during the encounter with dark mages. That situation had pushed him to experiment beyond the limits of what the elders had allowed him to do. It had been horrible. So horrible that he burnt that tome without giving second thoughts. Part of him had been deeply scared, because he knew something had happened with his own essence. It had been weakened. Now… Now even that small, minor spell could have over dimensionalised consequences. He did not want to experience this magic again but… if it meant to recover Runaan’s body and give him a proper funeral, maybe it was worth it. After all, it was just a _tiny bit_ of his essence. It could not harm him severely. Right?

Ethari looked at Ibis. “Do you think the Queen would be angry if I learn that spell and try to perform it here?”

Ibis shrugged. “Certainly not using her son will make things easier. And since you are going to use your own power… I’ll speak with her.”

* * *

The spell required two blades made of mythril. Thankfully he could mine the ores in the Storm Spire. The place was built on a rich mythril mountain which veins glowed during the night and the mythril traces could be seen on any wall. Extracting them was the easiest part. What was more complicated was forging the weapons. Mythil was a hard and stubborn material.

In the afternoon, after returning to the forge with a big amount of mythril ores, Ethari crafted the first shape of the blades. The long thick bars were now in the process of folding over and over to make them purer and stronger. While hammering, he kept talking to the air.

“Runaan, I hope you don’t be mad at me for this. But I think it’s the least I can do for you, and for me...and-”

Outside the forge, Callum approached the door frowning, surprised by hearing Ethari’s soft voice. He thought there was someone else talking with him, but when he reached the frame door and observed that the elf was alone, talking to the air, he hesitated to interrupt him. He only found the courage to do so when he heard that name that always caused him deep pain. Runaan. The man was simply talking to a dead person.

Callum sighed, knocked on the door and stepped in. Ethari startled with the sound of Callum’s footsteps but he immediately wore a tired smile on his face when he saw him.

“Oh, Callum. Were you there for a long while?”

The boy looked down for a fraction of a second. A short silence filled the room emphasising the crackling sound of the fire, “Just a little bit… sorry for… interrupting you.”

“No. No.” Ethari returned to focus on the raw shape of the blades, hitting the metal with a small hammer. “Please, don't think I’ve lost my mind. All Silvergrove already did. It’s.. It’s just a way I found to… accept things. Make them easier. Or, it’s better to say _bearable_.”

Callum did not add any extra remark and approached the elf. He observed the thick metallic bar developing a thin side where the cutting edge was going to be placed.

“Did you assist in the meeting?” Ethari asked.

The whole day had been used by the commanders and the army leaders with the queens and kings of the continent to discuss politics and the future ahead. Without Viren in the Human Kingdoms and with the return of the Dragon Prince to Xadia, things could change in order to find peace. But it was going to be neither easy nor quick.

“Yes, it has just finished.”

“How are things going to be now?” Ethari asked. He was not part of those meetings.

“Difficult. Katolis is without a King as long as Ezran remains here. Neolandia… would be a problem, especially when the King knows about his son’s fate. Duren told us that they would work with us as an intermediate to ease the friction. We have four countries that do not want Erzan on the throne.”

“And Xadia is going to take some responsibility for that?”

“I don’t know. Janai said her armies are going to help the Queen. And the Queen is taking things slowly. She seems more focused on Zym than anything else. We also don’t know where the moonshadows stand. Do you guys have some kind of leader or something? I mean, to talk to. Rayla is banished, so she can’t-”

“And I’m not useful either. And if I were, I would not be a solution anyway. I’ve never been quite influential in Silvergrove.”

“So… you don’t know some big guy to talk to?”

Ethari sighed. “Runaan was the leader of the assassins, and Tiadrin, Rayla’s mother, the leader of the Vanguard. They were the ones who could put some sense into the elders of the many different villages. But that was an option… until she was banished too. And Runaan… well... we lost them.” Ethari sighed letting a silence dip into the moment. He even had to stop his hammering to pull himself together for a moment, “But it’s safe to assume that Moonshadows stand where the Queen does.”

Callum observed Etahri’s profile with detail. The sad man exuded something tender and gentle even in his darkest mood. Then, his sight fell again on the blade as the elf resumed his hammering. “The skywing… I don’t know what they are going to do.” Callum said.

“Oh, that’s not new. Nobody ever knows what they are going to do, in any situation.” Ethari smiled at him, the shadow of a playful side barely peeking out.

Callum chuckled. “I don’t think Ibis will agree with that.”

“Oh, no. He would. He knows his people. They simply are... too free.” Ethari said taking a whetstone and beginning to sharpen the thinner edge. “And what’s the position of the Earthbloods?” Ethari looked at Callum, half a smile on his face, and winked at him without stopping his menotone movement, “Oh, I didn’t realise you lost your horns in the battle. Do you want me to make you a replacement?” He lowered his head and showed Callum the tip of his right horn, now wearing a metallic one. “I can make you one of these in mythil, I have a lot of it to spare.”

Callum blinked a bit lost in the joke. Then, when Ethari chuckled, he followed suit. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry for that bad joke about Earthblood stuff. I just… we were going to meet a lot of elves and… you know, humans are not their favourite people.”

“I know.” Ethari said stopping the sharpening process and taking his bottle of water to drink a bit. He was sweating a lot with the forge by his side. “So… what can I help you with? You didn’t come here for a pair of horn replacements.”

Callum scratched his head and looked aside. “Um… yes that… You are like Rayla’s father, right?”

Ethari stopped gulping and looked at him, reading that nervous demeanour, and tilted his head. “You could say that. I raised her when she was this little.” He put his hands a short distance from the floor. “with… Runaan.” His eyes fell down for a moment, feeling the sound of that name echoing along his body and hurting him.

“Um… Do you know… about Moonshadow things?... I mean. Sure you do. You are... one of them… Um… did I offended you?” He clenched his jaw. “Oh, please, forgive me if I did. It was not my intention. I was-”

Ethari chuckled. What a messy boy Rayla had put her eyes on. “No offence taken. And I do. I do know some _things_.” Understanding where all that was going, Ethari placed the bottle on the table and cleaned his hands with a piece of fabric. “Tea?”

Callum nodded speechless. Clearly Tea was one of those _Moonshadow things_.

With a gesture of his hand Ethari invited him to a corner of the forging room where a small table with a set of china was placed. The table was low and around it, several pillows indicated that they were going to sit on the floor. It seemed that chairs and seats were not a _Moonshadow thing_. Ethari put water on the fire and prepared some sweet blend. Callum was already knelt in front of the table, all straight and tense, awaiting him.

“So… Do you want to know about moonshadow traditions?” Ethari asked when he put the trail with the hot water and the cups on the table.

“I… yes.”

Ethari poured the water, and gave the cup to his guest. Then, he drank a sip waiting for some question, but Callum only looked at him, as if he were expecting to explain centuries of traditions in just an afternoon. They looked at each other, blinking.

“So?” Ethari asked, his tone kind and warm.

“...Um.. I was wondering… Um… Do moonshadow elves have bad ideas about humans? I mean, I know they do, but… I would like to know the details, exactly what...”

Ethari stopped the sip he was going to take and sighed. “Mn. That's not so much of a tradition. You know Xadia doesn’t see humans in great esteem. But we don't have anything particular to say in general. Only that they… like… war too much?”

“Um, I see… But… an elf and a human… it is impossible to think of, right?” He chuckled nervously.

Ethari smiled, amazed at how obvious Callum was. But he followed along. He tilted his head and faked the naivety of a child. “In what sense do you mean?”

“Friendship, friendship!!!” Callum said too quickly, and sank his head in his cup, drinking too fast and ignoring the burn on his tongue.

“Well, our vision of humans is always related to the ones we know. We have you. And your brother. And all those people that fought days ago. We also have Viren.” He said with a tone full of bitterness.

More serious, Callum left the cup on the table and folded his hands on his own lap, “I know. Humans have never been a good example of nice coexistence.”

“Maybe things will change soon.” He said, looking at him with a broad smile.

Callum swallowed and huffed. “Ethari… uh… I know I’m human. And we were not the best in the History. But I want to change things. I think we can, with Ezran, I mean. I want to get close to moonshadow people. Is there something I can do to earn their trust? To show them that…” He looked down, a violent deep red coloured his cheeks, “... that I care about them?” His voice trembled.

Ethari raised his eyebrows. That was sneaky. And also cute. Was Callum asking him what meaningful thing he could do to hit straight into Rayla’s heart? Ethari did not play with him anymore. “No. There is nothing more important than what you feel in the way you want to show it. Rituals can be performed by everyone. At the end of the day, they mean nothing. But what you feel… the way you do it… that’s the only thing that matters.” His voice faltered a bit at the end, remembering the many times he had forgotten to perform traditional rituals with Runaan.

Callum frowned, a bit confused. “That… doesn't sound very moonshadow.”

Ethari chuckled. “It’s not, indeed. Well, I’m not the best example of them anyways. Runaan was.”

Callum looked aside at the sound of that name, then, “Ethari… Rayla and me… we...”

“I know. You were quite obvious that you wanted to discuss _this_ since you entered here.” He winked.

He smiled ashamed, his face all red. “You… do you see a problem with that?”

“No.”

“No? Just like that?”

“Do you want me to have a problem? I can make up one… let me think…” Ethari twitched his lips and shook his head.

Callum waved his hands, “No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine.”

Ethari chuckled. “As long as you don’t make Rayla cry… I’ll be fine. She chose you. It’s not like you can change anything once she decides what to do. She’s a lot like Runaan in that sense….” His smile bittered. He looked down again, then at Callum. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Callum blinked.

“It’s hard for me not to keep remembering him constantly… but… He must not be a good memory for you.”

No, he was not. But Callum did not say anything. It was hard to speak up his mind about the damned assassin that removed from his life the chance to see his brother enjoying a good father, and from himself, a good caring step-father. Harrow had never done anything wrong to them or their mother. He could only feel a tired sadness at the thought of losing him with so many things unspoken. But at the same time, he had seen Harrow’s past actions in his way across Xadia. It was impossible to say he had his hands clean.

“Um… Let’s say I… I understand your memory.” Callum finally said.

“Thank you. And… I suppose you and your brother can find peace in knowing that… he died. After… after days of torture. Call it punishment or accomplished vengeance or whatever you want to call it.”

“No. Honestly, I don’t care about that. I would rather want Harrow alive than anyone else dead. But… well… we can’t... We can’t choose that... Not now.”

The grim environment, the scent of tea, the sound of more boiling water filled the silence of the moment. Ethari moved the kettle from the small fire beside their table and poured more tea in the cups. Both sighed heavily.

“They are a good example of how humans and elves had been working for so long.” He rotated his cup on the table, observing the dark steamy surface of the tea inside. “Bad decisions, one after the other, have been taken. And the results? Just bloodshed and pain.” Ethari’s eyes were glossy. “I’m tired of all that. That’s why I followed Rayla. If you and your brother are going to build something new, with less corpses and rivers of blood… I want to help. The old world… is too tinged in red. So much pain. It has to end.” Ethari pressed his lips in a thin line, and removed the leaves from the cups with a small spoon. “Just promise me you, and your brother, will try to make things better.”

Callum smiled and nodded. “I’ll do my best. We both will.”

“That will suffice” Ethari said, smiling at him while offering him a new cup with hot tea. He changed the topic to close that dark moment. “So… you are a mage.”

“I’m learning…”

“That’s so impressive. Primal mage, a human.” Ethari’s eyes turned curious. “How… how did you connect with the arcanum? Be precise. I want to know every detail.”

“I had a dream.” Callum said and talked for a long while explaining how the need to be free of a destiny that was supposed to trap him in Dark Magic needed to be broken first. And then, in the middle of the darkness that such a break left, he started to feel the wind, the storm, the lightning. He sailed into a journey to the depth of his consciousness and… breathed; he simply breathed into awakening. The connection with the arcanum was his despertare need to be free of his human _lesser_ condition.

Ethari sighed in resignation. That did not seem useful for him to use. “You are quite unique. Now I understand why Ibis was so bitter about you stealing his spells.”

Callum opened wide his eyes, “I didn’t steal his spells!”

Ethari chuckled, “Not explicitly, but he says it in a way that seems as if you had done it.”

Both laughed.

When the good cheer lightened their moods, Callum observed the dark magic tome laid on a side of the table and took it, placing it beside his cup. He tapped his fingers on it, nervously. “Uhm… Ethari… Do you think humans and elves can be at peace? This magic started all this mess...”

Ethari took a moment to think about how to answer, and despite the shame engraved in his soul for decades, he looked down at his lap. He moved his body to extend his legs on the ground, and slowly, removed his boot, exposing his bare feet. Callum raised his eyebrows at the sight of that peculiarity while listening to Ethari’s words.

“I grew up deeply ashamed of this. This was always a symbol of weakness. A symbol of impurity.”

“Five toes?”

“Time ago, when Xadia was not divided yet, humans and elves formed families together. They were the connection of the races. The diplomat families. They were supposed to be key for everyone to survive. Weaker elves, stronger humans. They were the symbol of giving a bit to someone else with less luck. My lineage is the very symbol of that weakness. But with the Border, these families were separated and almost extinct over the generations. It’s said that there exist special humans that come from that lineage too.” He squinted at Callum with a half smile. “I don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

“I’m very human, I can be sure about it.” He showed him his hands.

Ethari chuckled. “In any case, I find quite interesting that now… there is a chance for those families to return. What you and Rayla inspire, may reach others.”

Callum got all his face red, he blinked with his tightened lips. “And...Um… Rayla and me...We are still too young to think about that.”

“Oh, of course. Of course. Moonshadows don’t marry before their adulthood ritual. That’s unthinkable! And we exchange a pair of ambryths for that,” he tapped the ornaments at the base of his horns, then squinted at him observing Callum’s head. “Mn.. but in your case you should wear them somewhere else… I’ve never thought about what humans used in those times of the diplomat families”.

“Um.. Ethari, we are not going to marry...”

“I know, I know. You need to hit adulthood first.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Callum blinked embarrassed, his hands clenched on his lap, “Whatever.”

“Because if you don’t, we, Moonshadows, have a punishment for those who do not respect those rules.” The tone became thicker despite keeping his friendly intonation. “We eat them alive under the moonless midnight. With berries.” Ethari said with a warm smile that felt so fake.

Callum was agape, still processing that...threat?. Was it a threat?

“Y--You… you do what?” Callum stuttered.

They stared at each other, Ethari smiling in a dangerous way while Callum’s worries increased drastically. Then, out of the blue, Ethari burst out laughing, wiping out a tear of laughter. It had been a long while since he had laughed so hard.

“You had to see your face…” Ethari’s voice was a bit more high-pitched than his usual one, the laugh interfering with his words.

Callum rolled his eyes.

When Ethari recovered his breath, Callum sighed heavily and twisted his fingers while folding his hands “Uh… I also came here because…. I wanted to tell you… if you need some help with… this tome…” He patted the book on the table, “And you don’t mind me using some moon moths--I found three of them dead at the base of the spire. I burnt their bodies and they can be used to… fuel this spell too.”

Ethari raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t… don’t get me wrong. I- I- I don’t like it either, especially since I’m getting used to the sky arcanum... but… you are the only family that Rayla has. I don’t want you to risk too much of your life.”

Ethari blinked and then curved his lips in a warm smile. “Mn, you just want me to risk a little bit, right?”

“No… I mean…”

Both chuckled.

Ethari looked at him with soft eyes. “I thank you, but… you are important to her too… and Dark Magic is dangerous for those without practice… And for what Rayla told me… you barely got out alive the first time you cast it.”

“I’m not completely ignorant of the magic. I knew a Dark mage for a long while. She was powerful and could use the power in amazing ways. She… taught me things without knowing it. I mean, I could do much better now that I don't have the pressure of a dozen armed men around me...”

“Oh, I see… you stole her spells too, like Ibis’.”

“Ey! no!”

“You are a danger for all races, Callum.”

Both laughed, finishing their tea with more relaxing topics.

* * *

Rayla, Callum, and Ethari were the first ones in coming to the special room that Ibis designated to perform the spell. On the walls, many runes were drawn and glowed softly. Ibis joined them as well as the Queen’s eyes. He was going to report back to her all the details of the event with a neutral perspective. Zym, Bait, and Ezran were present too, worried for the safety of their friends.

“If something goes wrong… well… you know what to do.” Ethari said looking at Ibis who nodded in acknowledgement.

Rayla approached Ethari for the last time and hugged him with all her strength, snuggling her face on his broad chest. She had seen Callum almost die under the effect of that damned magic and could not bare the thought of seeing that happening again in Ethari. But it was his choice.

First, Ethari walked drawing a circle on the ground with his steps, leaving a wake of glowing lines. He stepped inside it and placed the mythril daggers in a V-form laying the three coins between the blades. He sighed deeply, steeling himself. All his body was begging him to stop, knowing how much pain this ritual promised. The reminiscences of the sickness he felt during a weeks time ago made his hands tremble. The revulsion, the darkness, the foul reek of death in his memories uneverved him. But he remained focussed.

He clapped three times and rubbed his hands. This was it. He started the spell that he had memorised the previous night. Slowly, he felt a gust of hot suffocating wind entering his body and draining something vital. It was like a repulsive claw nailing into his chest. He retched, but he endured the nausea, the buzz in his ears, the blurry dark vision. He kept focused on the chant. His eyes turned black and then glowed in purple while a dark halo surrounded all his body, swirling around his hands. He knelt and put his palms on the dagger’s blades. The energy flew into them and from the blades to the coins.

The small metallic pieces levitated in the air for a couple of seconds and then, suddenly, a cracking sound broke the tense silence. Ethari screamed out of pain and started to cough violently, blood pouring from the corner of his mouth. But he kept the connection of his hands with the weapons. Rayla hid her face in her hands, too mortified to see the scene.

The three coins were wrapped with the same dark halo covering Ethari, and a green smoke steamed out of them. The smoke became denser, turning into plasma and getting a solid shape over time. The process was demanding more energy than the one he had imagined. Maybe that was the trick of the reversion. Or maybe he had been wounded by this magic time ago, and now he was not completely able to perform it without feeling that everything was taken from him.

When the bodies were fully materialised, Ethari fell on the ground, unconscious. His skin became greyer, as if he were sick or bitten by a soulfang serpent, and the blood from his mouth spread profusely on the ground.

Rayla gasped and rushed to take Ethari’s head on her lap. He was unresponsive. When she lifted his eyelids, she only saw full black eyes rolled back.

The three bodies that had been released from the coins abruptly fell on the ground too, but none of them moved. It was, as they had supposed, just lifeless bodies.

“Well, I now have one more person to heal and three to prepare for their funeral.” Ibis softly said, approaching Rayla to help her with Ethari. He winced when he placed his hand on Ehtari’s forehead. He was flying in fever.

Rayla saw the other bodies. A slender one, with a quite familiar bareback made her frown. She noticed that long yet messy hair, and the many bruises on that back, but what wide opened her eyes was that dark purple arm. It had a white binding. That… that was _him_.

She carefully let Ethari’s head rest in Ibis’ arms and walked toward that body. Her eyes were filled with tears as she knelt in front of him. It was Runaan. Or at least, what was left of him. She caressed the binding with deep sadness, but as soon as her fingertips touched that skin, she removed her hand immediately, as if a volt of electricity had hurt her.

“What happened?” Callum said approaching her.

“He, he is warm… he…” She placed the back of her hand against Runaan’s nose and her face changed, her tears jumped from her eyes, cleaning all her sadness. “Oh, he… he is alive… HE IS ALIVE!” She smiled, snapping her head at Ezran and then to Zym. “Please, cut his binding… maybe we can save his arm.”

Zym did not hesitate. He bit the ribbon releasing the arm of that pressure. Ezran had a half smile on his face. Then, he looked at the other two bodies on the ground. “Maybe the others are alive too.”

Callum walked to those bodies and gasped when he finally saw their faces. “Rayla… they are your parents.”


	15. Chapter 15

After what Callum had told her about her parents and their heroic fight against Viren, Rayla barely had enough time to process all that information and make it compatible with her feelings. Now, before her parents, she felt deeply ashamed; the few scraps of memories about them were always filled by many negative emotions. She could not run into Lain’s warm arms and kiss Tiadrin immediately after their awakening. They were… mostly… strangers. She had buried so much hatred for them since she was a child that the mixed feelings tinged with guilt prevented any action. Instead, the three of them slowly walked to the Pinnacle in order to have a proper conversation alone. Once all their misunderstandings could be solved, maybe then, she could embrace them fully.

It was not going to be easy to talk with a Rayla they did not know in the slightest. A grown-up Rayla. A Rayla that had little to do with the little seven-year-old child they had left in Silvergrove almost a decade ago.

From the two remaining elves in the room, Ibis was truly worried about Ethari. He looked worse over the hours. His skin was greyer and dry, and the scent around him reeked of death. There was also a strange lack of presence in him, as if he had lost that phantasmagorical element that allowed others to perceive another at their backs. Besides, Ethari’s uncomfortable sleep was often interrupted by cough attacks that ended up with several stains of blood on his pillow. Something inside him had been damaged, and Ibis was unable to properly fix it, no matter how much energy he would use.

The one who was doing much better was Runaan. At first, Ibis’ main worries were focused on his arm, but it had been progressing quite well. The nerve damage seemed to have been healed and the limb had recovered its normal blood circulation. With his arm free of any binding, Ibis had no worries about the rest of bruises and dents all over his body. Nothing that time could not heal properly.

“So, this is the famous Runaan, mn?” Ibis said, drawing a rune in the air with one hand while keeping the other open against Runaan’s forehead. He was casting a recovery spell to speed up his natural healing process. By his side, Callum was placing a cloth soaked in icy water on Ethari’s face. His fever was dangerously high.

Due to Ibis’ words, Callum only observed the assassin for a brief moment and said nothing. Instead, he kept treating Ethari, giving him some drops of a potion that he needed to take every two hours.

Eager to learn more about the sky arcanum and its apparent healing skills, Callum had offered himself to help Ibis in taking care of the wounded soldiers, expecting to absorb some new skills or knowledge from him. But despite his friendly appearance, Ibis seemed not to be so well-disposed to share his secrets with him. Maybe his shadowed pride, still wounded by knowing a human child could handle magical wings when he had spent all his life learning such complex magic, was still far away from healing. Callum considered that was the reason why he ended up there, between a man slowly dying and being fed in drops, and his assassin husband, recovering too fast.

“He will not take much time in awakening. His wounds were not severe but he must be exhausted. That spell keeps the imprisonment as long as it keeps consuming the prisoner’s essence.” Ibis said. Callum sighed in a vain attempt to release the sudden tension on his back. Having Runaan awoken before Ethari was a bad omen.

Once finished with Runaan, Ibis inspected Ethari. The persisting darkness in his unfocused eyes was more than worrying. Then, he took the potion on the bedside table and shook it to sense its content. It was going to last four hours only. He needed to replenish it.

“I’ll come back.” He said walking away.

“Wait, wait! Where are you going? He is going to wake up soon…” Callum said throwing his scared sight on Runaan’s bed. “I--- I don’t think it’s a good idea to be the first thing he sees.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He will see Ethari.”

Callum’s eyes widened. “That… That makes things worse…”

Ibis shook his head softly and smiled. “Do not worry. I’ll go get another potion and come back faster than a change in the wind. You’ll see.”

And without wasting more time to reply, Ibis left the room. Tensed, Callum sat in front of Ethari’s bed and remained counting on the minutes to give him the following drops of the potion. His nervous eyes never stopped checking to see Runaan’s sleep. If only Rayla could be there, at least.

It must have been half an hour when Runaan awoke gasping, lifting from the bed in a fast movement. His breathing was accelerated; he was surprised to feel his lungs working again. He looked around and squinted, hurt by the intense light of the Sun coming in through the window. He was dazed, confused, and exhausted. He was not sure where he was. Somewhere else, but not in the coin, that was for sure. He took a moment to get used to the light. He touched his arm, strange to feel it less painful than usual. Surprised, he confirmed that the binding was not there anymore.

When his eyes could finally focus again, he looked around the room and saw a pair of tense eyes looking at him in silence. Runaan frowned, recognizing him immediately. It was the human prince. The one who had _stolen_ the egg. But if his binding was gone, it meant that this boy had lost his brother. Could Rayla have taken that child’s life? Runaan remained calm, in part, because he was too exhausted and overwhelmed by fragmented memories to react in any other way.

However, when he looked down at the human boy’s side and saw Ethari’s sweaty grey face and his laboured breathing, Runaan’s eyes became wider and colder as his pupils retracted completely. He left his own bed with a quick jump, using all the little energy he could gather in his state, and grabbed Callum by his scarf. Unable to use the strength he should have in normal conditions, leant his own body’s weight to force him to fall on the ground. He pressed the boy’s chest with a knee and looked at him with furious eyes.

“What have you done to him? Where is Rayla!? _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE_?” His voice arose deep and desperate.

“Nothing, nothing!” Callum said, nervous, pushing at him to be released from that weight.

“You’ll die, liar.”

Runaan grabbed Callum’s neck and squeezed it with all the hatred he always had towards these insolent creatures. One less in this world was always good news. Suddenly, the sound of quick steps shifted Runaan’s attention for a moment. He tried to look over his shoulder but had no time for reaction. Unable to dodge it, he was violently thrown against a wall by a sudden intense gust of wind and hit all his bruised back against it. He groaned in deep pain. He was in no shape to receive more hits.

Grabbing his staff with a proud demeanor, Ibis looked at Runaan with a wary expression and helped Callum to get up. The child kept coughing desperate for breathing.

Runaan observed the skywing, and then to his staff, his ire calming down while he was more confused now. That elf was a mage of the skywings. But helping a human? Damn skywings, they were always as random as leaves in the air.

“You better behave, moonshadow. You are in the Storm Spire.” Ibis said.

Runaan blinked, looking immediately at the window of the room; dense clouds prevented him from seeing beyond. He was so confused, but the only thing that made sense to him at that moment was that Ethari was there, heavily breathing in a bed, looking as if he were at the edge of death.

“What happened to him?” He asked, observing Ethari’s bed.

“Dark Magic.”

He clenched his teeth, “I knew it, filthy humans. You will pay. Justice will be reclaimed-” Runaan said standing on his feet once again, despite the pain, and approached Callum who stepped back without wiping out his defying face.

“I did nothing to him.” Callum muttered.

“Ethari cast Dark Magic on his own.” Ibis added using his staff as a barrier between Runaan and Callum.

That phrase echoed in Runaan in such a way that froze his movements and opened wide his eyes. “What?”

“If you go back to your bed and rest, I can explain. Ethari is in this condition due to his own decision. And we, this includes this human child here, are taking care of him. Now… go to your bed if you don’t want us to skip the doses that keep him alive.”

Runaan’s sight fell to the ground; those words hid heavy implications. They were coming from another elf, they could not be protecting a true enemy. But… on the other side, it was a damn Skywing who spoke. Nobody knew where their allegiances laid.

However, considering his terrible physical state, he complied. He did not return to this bed but sat at the edge of Ethari’s bed and touched his cheek. He was burning.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ibis asked.

“Pain. As if my insides were turned out, or as if my guts were removed. Then… then, Viren. And a great danger ahead.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then took Etahri’s hand in his own. “Ethari.” He whispered with deep pain.

“You were trapped in a coin through Dark Magic, so there was no other way to reverse it than using it again. Know that this man used it only to free you and two more moonshadows. ” Ibis said.

“Rayla’s parents.” Callum added, knowing it was going to have a particular effect on Runaan. And it did.

Runaan opened his eyes wide and looked at the human. “What? Explain that.”

“I saw it myself. They defended the Egg to the last consequences when Viren attacked them, time ago. They were trapped in coins since that moment.”

“And the egg? What happened to the egg?”

Ibis smiled. “The egg saved your arm. It’s a healthy Dragonling by now. He is with the human prince Ezran.”

After releasing a deep sigh and rubbing his face with his trembling hands, calmer, Runaan looked at Callum in silence. He raised an eyebrow while trying to read through the human’s intentions. When both of them got tired of observing one another, Runaan finally spoke again. “Then...You were true to your word.”

Callum snorted. “It was a horribly long journey, coming here. And it was not easy. We… had to make hard decisions along the way…”

“There is no other way for life to be.”

Callum twisted his lips.

Runaan did not only look exhausted, he was absolutely drained. Especially after that waste of energy he had used to attack Callum. Now, the fatigue was really heavy in his body and it transpired in his voice. But he endured it, observing Ethari’s face and squeezing his hand in his.

After a moment, calm steps from the corridor reached the room. As usual, Runaan tensed and awaited the figure to show up at the door frame. When it did, a gentle and tired smile curved his lips. It was Rayla. His dear Rayla, alive and strong, with that small little lift of her chin he had always taught her to imprint in her demeanor. His chest felt so relieved. But it did not last. Rayla immediately rushed towards him, and embraced him, tightening her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Runaan… You are okay! You are alive.”

For the first time in a while, he did not resist to feel weakened, wrapped in those slender arms. It was good to feel a familiar warmth, to know she was alive, and that she, at least, had accomplished her mission in protecting the egg. He moved apart a little bit, cupped her face, observing every detail of it, and kissed her forehead, to resume the embrace once again and let some tears run from his eyes.

Rayla was incredibly surprised by Runaan’s behaviour. He truly had been tortured too much.

Behind her, Tiadrin and Lian followed their daughter, smiling at the tender scene displayed in the room. At that moment, they were certain that leaving Rayla in their friends’ caring hands had been the best decision they could have taken when they left Silvergrove.

Always alert to unexpected movements, Runaan immediately darted his eyes at those new figures, and gasped. After taking a moment to enjoy the embrace, Rayla sat on Ethari’s bed and let Runaan walk toward Lian. It was a long moment of silent surprise on Runaan’s side, and painful understanding on Lian’s. When a few steps kept them apart, Lian strode forward and strongly hugged him, remaining in that brotherly lock long enough, pressing their cheeks against the other’s shoulder.

“I… I never thought I would see you again.” Runaan whispered.

Lian nodded, his eyes glossy, full of emotion. Tiadrin broke the moment pressing her fist on Runaan’s cheek, softly enough not to make his bruises hurt too much.

“Don’t be so soft with _my_ husband.” Tiadrin said, wickedly smiling at Runaan, “Besides, you didn’t give me _my_ hug!”

“You always lusting after all the attention.” Runaan chuckled and hugged her too. He kept looking at both, a fond smile on his face. But then, he turned to look at Ethari and all the joy of the meeting was misted up by that tragedy.

Diligently, Callum took the new potion flask and gave the corresponding drops to Ethari, silently surprised of having witnessed that strange side of Runaan. There were many mixed feelings in his chest right there. It was not so different when he saw Avizandum’s dead body. It was not so different to his own step-father’s actions.

He tried to only think about healing Ethari. That elf had been so welcoming to him. It was a disgrace to let him die. He promised to himself that he would do anything at his disposal to help him. He already had seen his brother losing his father. He did not want to watch that event again. Not with Rayla. Not after all that they had been through.

* * *

“As I said before, Xadians are bad at enduring the consequences of the Dark Magic in their bodies.” Ibis said.

A whole week of treatment had done nothing, and Ethari’s state seemed to worsen over time.

“So… so, he is… he is going to die….” Runaan’s eyes were stuck on Ethari’s struggling sleep face, caressing his sweaty temples here and there. The man had been completely restless since he had awakened, taking care of the slight changes in Ethari’s state to prevent a bigger tragedy. But sadly, there was not much to do, only to delay the unavoidable.

Callum looked at Rayla who was holding Ethari’s hand. He hated this picture. He was certain that he could not feel much sympathy for Runaan, the pain of loss was suitable for him as a punishment for killing Harrow, but not at this cost. Not making Rayla suffer, not by killing Ethari. Callum rubbed his face knowing that one of his _great_ ideas were flitting around his mind once again, and it was not good at all. He had too much to risk.

Ibis had explained to them that Xadians could only endure and heal themselves under a low level of Dark Magic before being deadly affected. Over that limit, their recovery mechanism was broken and the corruption left by Dark Magic increased over time. Humans seemed to be much better at that, displaying a fast ageing but having no more consequences than the physical ones. Even though humans were weaker, their limits were always hard to guess, even in how they managed the consequences of this twisted magic.

In an attempt to find a solution, Rayla’s parents had spoken to the Queen, asking her for a way to clean the corruption inside Ethari’s body. However, she claimed that there only existed two ways; one under the power of the already dead Sun Priest of the Sunfire elves, and the other, it was through her most powerful lightning, which most likely would kill him on the spot.

After so much insistence, and even resorting to an emotional extortion using the Dragon Prince, Tiadrin managed to convince the Queen to give them another option. After beating the bushes for a while, the Queen uncovered a third option.

There was an ancient spell that allowed the transference of corruption from a Xadian to another, but it required blood from a dragon. Everyone involved had to be careful not to accept more than their own limits, otherwise they would end up with more corruption, dying slowly due to the inability of their natures to overcome the consequences of Dark Magic.

Accepting the warning, Rayla’s parents asked her for the ingredient that only the Queen could offer. Despite her reticence, and after another of Tiadrin’s emotional extortion, Zubeia, touched by the pain of seeing a family torn apart by dark magic, finally poured her blood in a flask after giving them the instructions.

So they were there, in front of Ethari’s ill bed, with an almost empty flask of dragon blood, and everyone feeling sick due to the small bit of corruption that had taken into their bodies. Although Rayla’s parents, Rayla herself, and Runaan had performed the spell, it had been so small what they could take without ending in the same state that had almost no effect in Ethari’s. According to Ibis’ words, the corruption inside Ethari had been increasing over time, and the rate in which they could remove it was not enough to even equate the rate of growth in him. Sadly, Ethari was condemned to death.

“Uhm...Ibis,” Callum said rubbing the back of his neck. “Taking this corruption has the same effect as if one has performed Dark Magic, right?”

“Indeed.”

“It… Does it break the connection with the arcanum?” His voice trembled.

Rayla blinked at those words and snapped to look at Callum with widened eyes. Runaan, devastated, silently observed their interaction.

“It may. That’s what is killing Ethari. He lost his connection with the moon. His soul is wandering in his body, unable to connect, lost in the darkness.”

“Did Zubeia say something about this spell working only on Xadians?”

Raised eyebrows, Ibis looked at him with intrigued eyes, not answering his question but clearly understanding its intention.

Taking the silence as an affirmative answer, Callum sighed. “Okay… I’ll do the spell.”

“What?” Ibis huffed.

“You have been draining that corruption with almost no results. You told us that humans can deal much better with those effects. I don’t want him to die. I’m sick of watching people losing their families.” Callum observed Rayla.

Those words deeply hit Runaan who looked down, caressing Ethari’s burning face.

“So… you are aware that this may put in risk your-” Ibis insisted.

“I know. But I want to risk it. I understand the arcanum, that’s not something that I will lose. I… I guess. _I hope_. And if I don’t do anything now…” He observed that grey sweaty face of the dying elf. “He doesn’t have much time.”

“Very well.” Ibis said.

He took Ethari’s hand and cut his palm. He poured the flask that contained Zubeia’s blood on the wound, and extended his hand to ask for Callum’s. The boy sighed again, feeling the fear of losing all that he had worked so hard to get, and extended his arm. Ibis repeated the process on his palm.

He pressed both palms and as soon as the blood link was established, Ibis gave Callum the instructions of the spell.

“ _Dolorem in caritate._ ” Callum spoke in draconic words.

The immediate movement of magic was wild. A strong swirl of purple miasma violently entered Callum’s body. His eyes became purple and all the well-known uneasy feelings of the dark magic spread along his body. He looked at Rayla to find some comfort and let the spell work in his body without resistance. Nothing in the process felt overwhelming or unbearable, nothing was like that time he used Dark Magic for the first time.

Runaan was slightly agape. Ethari’s vivid colour slowly returned to his face while Callum’s hair displayed a pair of white locks and some small dark tendrils around his eyes which would fade soon after the end of the spell. For the first time in his life, Runaan saw _the exception_ , saw how complex Dark Magic marks could be, how those white locks could mean more than greed and thirst for power.

Ethari’s painful face was softened into a calm gesture of rest. His presence, that intangible feeling that everyone could sense with closed eyes, was restored. Now he was finally resting to recover.

“It will take a bit more time for his body to reconnect and heal.” Ibis said to Runaan after touching Ethari’s stomach. “You can help him by staying close to him. He needs to perceive how the connection must be done by sensing another creature of his same arcanum. Bathe him in moonlight during the night too.”

Rayla was already inspecting Callum, worried about the consequences of the spell, pinching and stretching his cheeks to force him to open his mouth and lifting his eyelids in excess. He looked fine. “Are you sure that you are feeling okay? Not like the other time? Are you breathing okay? Not drowning? No lack of air?”

He took Rayla’s hands and put them down, smiling at her and enduring the lingering piercing pain in his cheek. “Yes, yes, I do. But… let me check something…”

Callum’s hands were trembling. Now he needed to verify what was important.

He drew some runes in the air, fearing that he may have lost his power, but as soon as he vocalized the spells, wind and lighting were summoned in the room. His powers were there, untouched. He still needed a last check with his mage wings, which appeared at the end of the draconic words, extending them inside the room and touching with its feathers Rayla’s and Ibis’s faces. He smiled relieved and happy. His precious magic was still with him, uncorrupted, so he hugged Rayla out of emotion. However, he broke the contact immediately after meeting those silent turquoise eyes that kept observing him with too much focus and hidden thoughts.

Ibis rolled his eyes with a hint of annoyance tingeing his expression. “Well, congratulations. It seems you only lost a bit of black hair.” He approached Callum, took his chin and raised it a bit to see into his eyes. Certainly humans could deal much _much_ better with that magic’s consequences than any Xadian.

Despite not showing it on his face, Runaan was deeply surprised by Callum's use of magic without needing any primal stones. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he looked at Ethari once more and caressed his cheek. The grey colour was fading and his temperature was becoming normal now.

_This was a miracle._

_No_.

He looked again at Callum.

 _It was not a miracle_.

* * *

That night, Runaan pushed Ethari’s bed closer to the window. An enormous full moon was dominating the sky and its light felt too good on his skin not to take advantage of it. He removed his tunic and Ethari’s, and laid bare chest on the bed, staying as close to his husband as possible, following Ibis’s recommendation. It was wonderful to once again feel Ethari’s skin, remembering how much he longed for this moment during his confinement in the coin. He kissed Ethari’s chest, right over his heart, and rested his cheek there, hearing that calming beat. With a deep breath he noticed Ethari’s scent. It had already changed too, recovering its familiar tone. What had been broken before was healing now, slowly.

Runaan took his shadow form and cuddled against Ethari’s neck; this was the only way he had to make his connection with the arcanum stronger in a conscious way. He waited anxiously, thinking this trick and the intense bath of moonlight that both of them were taking could be enough to stimulate Ethari’s healing.

After several hours, Ethari sighed and softly grunted, moving a little bit and snuggling against Runaan’s head. Full of expectations, Runaan turned off his shadow powers and observed him, caressing his cheek and combing his messy hair. His own breath was accelerated with nervousness.

Slowly, Ethari’s caramel eyes opened and looked at him in silence. He frowned a bit. He was as sleepy as any morning, barely understanding what was happening and yawning. Runaan smiled as his turquoise eyes filled with tears. He caressed Ethari’s cheek.

“Am I dead?” Ethari whispered, his eyes immediately directed to the moon peeking through the window.

Runaan snorted and leant to kiss his forehead. “You are always such a terribly heavy sleeper. You had me waiting for you to open your eyes for so long. You have no shame.”

Ethari looked around without moving his head and frowned in confusion “That means I’m not dead? Is this a dream? Am I delirious again?”

“No. You are very alive, dear. And I am too.” Runaan left a long soft peck on Ethari’s lips and thumbed his cheek.

Ethari gasped in realization, and despite the exhaustion, he moved his hands, touching with fear Runaan’s face. Everything felt as tangible as reality. With eyes full of tears, Ethari embraced him as strong as his weakened body allowed him, sinking his face in that neck and feeling that soft texture of Runaan’s hair in his face. _They were alive_. It was unbelievable that he could feel Runaan’s soft breathing hitting his neck side, constantly. A wonderful sign of life.

“It’s you. It is you. Runaan, I thought I lost you for good.” He tightened the embrace, reciprocated with the same squeeze.

“Me too… dear. Me too.”

They remained that way for a long moment, tasting the embrace, letting their tears fall freely and their bodies feel the warmth of one another. Then, Runaan moved apart a little bit, and smiling, he cleared Ethari’s face from those rebel strands of hair and those tears full of emotion.

“I’m so sorry, Ethari. I’ve failed you. I broke the promise I gave you. I couldn’t return-”

Ethari sighed placing his fingers on Runaan’s lips stopping his words. “It doesn’t matter now. You are alive. This is a miracle.”

Ethari moved his heavy body and compressed himself against Runaan.

It had been so long since the last time they simply remained together, relaxed in a bed, enjoying the warmth and texture of their naked skins, one against the other while drawing lazy caresses. The familiar scent of their bodies together. The calm movement of their chest proving in each breath that they were alive despite the chaos of the world.

 _They were alive_.

For a long moment, they enjoyed in silence the small familiar details of each other. The long soft hair of Runaan put aside along the pillow, Ethari’s long fridge caressing Runaan’s cheek in every peck. The silly eye contact followed after their slowly tasted kisses, the tip of their noses caressing their cheeks. They had missed all of this. They had thought that they had lost all this. It was like reviving their intimacy after the first time. But they were now so much wiser. And immensely exhausted.

“So… You know what happened… to me?” Ethari asked, unable to keep the doubts any longer in his mind as memories became clearer. His voice was tinged with fear, knowing that Runaan was ruthless when it came to dark magic.

But Runaan hummed without a hint of wrath, running his finger along Ethari’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

Ethari frowned slightly. Runaan did not want to talk about it, it seemed. He became more nervous. “A bit dizzy and dirty. But it’s normal. I’ve passed through this... _before_.” He sighed mortified. “Don’t be mad with me, please.”

Raised eyebrows, Runaan whispered, “I shall not, don’t worry. You saved me. And Tiadrin and Lian.” He smiled.

“What?” Ethari’s face turned serious.

“The other ones trapped in the rest of the coins. It was them.”

Ethari widened his eyes. “Were they?” After a long moment of silence in which he connected this information with the memories of the past, he blinked in full understanding. “So, they never ran away. I told you!” He smiled, cupping Runaan’s face for a moment. “I told you!”

Runaan nodded, gladly to see that energy flowing again through Ethari. “They defended their honour to the end.”

“Oh, Moon, that’s such good news.” But his good cheer lasted a few seconds. As soon as Ethari reminded himself where he was and why he was in an ill-bed, his gesture changed suddenly. He felt ashamed and scared, and with guilty eyes, he looked at Runaan, his broad shoulders shrinking a little bit, “So... aren’t you, _truly_ , mad at me?”

Runaan snorted. “I’m not exactly the most fitting person to judge anyone, don't you think?”

Ethari hummed with a shy yet humorous smile, “So… you are not going to divorce me for this?”

Runaan chuckled, feeling blessed for having recovered his mischievous, playful, and dearly Ehtari. “No, I won’t. But… it certainly proved that I became such a bad influence in your life.” He kissed him once again, never getting tired of his lips.

Ethari snorted. “The worst.”

“However… Maybe I should punish you a little bit for that.”

“Oh, I’d like that. It seems fair. But first, let me rest for a couple of days.”

Both fondly smiled at each other, cuddled in the bed, and calmly slept under the moonlight.

* * *

The news of Ethari’s awakening improved the mood of everyone. They visited him the next morning. The first one who rushed into the room and tightly hugged him was Rayla; relief was all over her face. To have been the one encouraging Ethari’s crooked ideas was a heavy weight to carry in her consciousness, despite having her parents and Runaan back again.

Of course, the little emotional reunion did not last much time with Lain around, who gently pushed aside his daughter and lifted Ethari from his bed in a massive bear-hug that Ethari gave back without reservation.

Beside the bed, Runaan half-smiled at Lain. “I’m watching you, Lain.” He said with a threatening and joking tone that Callum--the last one who entered the room--had never heard before in that secretive elf.

Lain released Ethari and darted his look to Runaan, both of them wearing a deadpan and challenging gesture that ended up with Lain messing with Runaan’s hair while trying to dodge or block his attacks. Everyone laughed, remembering their teenage years.

Approaching the bed while her husband and Runaan kept sillily fighting, Tiadrin touched Ethari’s shoulder and observed him, inspecting him. His dark skin looked vivid once again, free of that tragic gray that was withering him days ago. Then, she smiled. “You look yourself, again.” She patted his cheek.

Ethari closed his eyes and pressed that hand hardened by weapons against his own cheek, “It’s been so long. It’s good to see you are alive, safe and sound, Tiadrin.” Ethari said.

Awkward, feeling completely outside the familiar picture that the elves were displaying, Callum remained close to the door frame, observing Rayla. She was so relaxed, and her smile added some lighting to her face that made her look more beautiful than she was. He could not help but remember her during their way to Xadia; that night at the Oasis in the Midnight Desert. She had been so hopeless, believing all her family had been gone forever and she was alone in this big world. It was good to know that he had contributed to this reunion. Despite…

Despite…

Callum observed Runaan and released a painful and a little bit poisoned sigh. If he had to be honest with himself, the whole picture was ruined by that man’s presence. It was impossible not to think of Harrow every time he saw that elf.

As usual, Runaan was aware of Callum’s intense gaze upon him and his conflicted feelings. Mentally distancing himself from the reunion, Runaan closed his eyes, inhaled, and made a cold decision.

All the noisy fuss around Ethari’s bed turned suddenly mute when Runaan stood up and slowly walked towards the door. Everyone observed him, alert. They had noticed he had just switched his mind and the one walking to Callum was the ruthless assassin.

Worried, Rayla stepped forward, but Ethari took her wrist, giving her a reassuring look.

Those calculated steps and the worry in everyone’s eyes agitated Callum. Wary, he looked at the tall elf and stepped back, fearing a second attack.

However, Runaan stopped before him, combed his own hair with his hand--Lian had made a real mess with it-- and locked his eyes on Callum’s. The tense silence lasted less than a second, but for Callum, it had been hours as his panic started to rise out of control. What was he going to do to that man? Was he going to kill him? In front of everyone?

Releasing a deep loud sigh, Runaan fell on his knees before him, extended his hands on the ground, and _bowed_. Now Callum was truly panicking, especially when he saw everyone opening their eyes wide in a grave silence.

“I’ve heard…” Runaan’s deep voice started with difficulty. Bowing before a human was burning his chest with mixed feelings, “-I’ve heard what you have done for Rayla. How you saved her from certain death after she jumped into the void in order to protect the Dragon Prince. And I was a witness myself when you saved my husband too, risking what you value the most.” Runaan lifted his torso, and remaining knelt, he fixed his glossy eyes on Callum’s.

Rayla was agape, Lian and Tiadrin covered their mouths, while Ethari, even though he was surprised, he could not hide a content smile that was curving his lips against his will. Runaan was performing the standard ritual of taking an oath.

“I have done things that are unforgivable,” Runaan continued, “...so I would not ask what I know it shall never be given. But I promise that, from this moment on, I’m in debt with you. _Forever_. You will always be able to ask me favours as long as they don’t conflict with my previous oaths or put my people in danger.”

Callum nervously smiled, scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t think I want to kill anyone… you know…”

“My skills are wider than just killing.” Runaan said ceremoniously.

“Oh, yeah, they are.” Ethari said. The boy looked at him intrigued, so Ethari continued with his index finger extended “But _those_ are reserved to his husband.”

Breaking the solemn flow of the moment, Runaan snapped to turn his head and look at Ethari, deep frown on his face and a slight blush on his face. Everyone laughed softly.

In a more serious tone, Ethari smiled at Callum. “Runaan is saying something I wanted to tell you too. It may not be the same, and I know it's complicated for you… but, Callum, know that you have a family among us too.”

Callum smiled at Ethari and looked at Rayla’s parents. They were smiling back at him, Lain was even nodding in a frantic way. Wary, Callum’s eyes fell upon Runaan, who kept his visual contact for a moment and then did a slow short bow.

Callum released a sigh, he was not sure about that man. It did not feel neither natural nor right to simply accept him. He had killed Harrow. Sure, it had been under the Queen’s commands, but the fact remained the same; it was an event that was never going to fade in his mind. Then, he looked at Rayla and smiled at her. She approached him and gave him her hand.

“But remember. _Adulthood_ first.” Ethari said out of the blue and winked at him.

Callum blushed, and Rayla and Runaan frowned at Ethari. Rayla, full of reproach towards Ethari for that comment, Runaan lost in the meaning of it. Tiadrin just chuckled, fascinated by the unbelievable resemblance shared by her daughter and Runaan.

After a while, the visitors left the place leaving Ethari to rest on his bed while Runaan stayed by his side.

Only then, curious, Runan asked, “What was all that about adulthood?”

Ethari took some seconds, a dramatic pause that made Runaan deeply nervous, “Do not panic.”

Now Runan had his eyebrow raised and his jaw clenched. “Oh, bad news..”

“Not at all… In fact, really good news. Rayla and Callum...” He put together his index fingers.

Runaan raised both eyebrows. “By the Moon and its sacred Shadow.... Did she have to choose a human?”

“Do you disapprove?” Ethari looked at him with that face he always did when he wanted to remind Runaan about his own lineage of diplomat families. “Because you have just given to him an oath that he can easily use against you…”

Runaan rubbed his face and sighed. Ethari patted Runaan’s thighs.

“Don’t worry, Runaan. They are still developing their bond. They are young. Besides, I warned him that moonshadows are quite severe with anyone trying anything before adulthood. We have an extremely hard punishment for those who break this tradition.”

"Do we?" Intrigued, Runaan looked at him, eyebrow raised, not sure if he wanted to ask. “What kind of punishment do we have?”

Then, he saw that glint in Ethari's eyes and his half crooked smile. _Oh, Moon, what had he done?_

“Eat them alive. With berries.”

Runaan blinked. “You… you told him… that?!”

“Just repeat it if he asks you anything. It’s for the best.”

Runaan laughed, followed soon after by Ethari. “You are a danger to humans and elves alike.”

“It’s my fifth toe.”

“The source of evilness.”

“The source of it all.” Ethari said.

With a smile still lingering and embracing Etahri’s waist, Runaan kissed him dearly.

* * *

New times were ahead, and important decisions were going to be made soon. To where all these changes would lead was uncertain, but for now, small actions were done to secure the situation of Xadia and the Human Kingdoms in the short-term .

Since she had demonstrated not only her passion but competence, Rayla remained at the Storm Spire as a Dragonguard, defending Zym during the next years until he could reach adulthood. Her parents would accompany her in this solitary duty until the relationship of Xadia with the Human Kingdoms would not require such measures anymore, if that was even possible.

Banished from Silvergrove, Ethari stayed by Rayla’s side, working in the immense smithy in the Storm Spire. From there, he could still develop magical weapons, and with the flux of Skywings around the place, he was sure he would learn more about their magic and enchants, boosting his craftsmanship to a new different level.

Knowing Rayla’s and Ethari’s ghosted situation, Runaan was going to head to Silvergrove as soon as his wounds would recover completely. He needed to spread the truth about Rayla’s parents, his heart-daughter, and his husband as well, in order to make the elders aware of their mistakes and reverse the banishment. It was going to take time, but as soon as that could be fixed, he would return to Ethari’s side and see with new expectations what kind of future the young Dragon and human princes would bring. It was a future he had deep doubts about, but this time he had decided to follow his husband's hunch, as he had done time ago when he insisted on not bringing Rayla to the revenge mission.

Ezran returned to Katolis, accompanied with all his armies and alliances forged with Duren and isolated fractions. They needed to put order in such a chaotic situation left by Viren. And they still have to look for him. The mysterious elements left in that cave were a bad omen. They were sure this was not the last time they were going to hear about him.

Despite being a bit torn apart between Rayla and Ezran, Callum decided to stay in Xadia. He still had thousands of spells and arcanums to master, and a deep secret that needed to be unlocked: the Key of Aaravos. There was no better place to uncover its mysteries than Xadia. He considered that it was for the best to stay in the Storm Spire, by Rayla’s side, and explore their new relationship at the same time he absorbed all the knowledge that any skywing could accidentally drop in their conversations.

* * *

Runaan was checking Ethari’s Shadowpaw when someone hugged him from behind. He had noticed the owner of that warmth seconds ago; his iron-like scent carried by the nocturnal breeze was not strange for him.

“Runaan, please, come back no matter the news you’ll bring. Just come back.” Ethari whispered in Runaan’s ear and tightened his embrace.

“I know the elders may be deadly boring… but never in a literary sense. I'm quite sure my return would not be endangered by death.”

Ethari chuckled. It was good to see that Runaan still had his dry humour.

“I see you still managed to keep a good portion of sense of humour.”

“I know. Unbelievable. Considering how many humans have been around in this place during these days.”

Ethari softly hit Runaan’s head. “Hey, who do you think you are talking to? Remember my lineage.”

Runaan turned inside the embrace and left a soft peck on Ethari’s lips, then he frowned at him, smiling playfully, silent.

“And don’t forget my evil toes.” Ethari threatened in a silly way.

“You are not a human.” He cupped Ethari’s face, looked at him for a long moment, enjoying every detail of that soft face that he had seen changing during their growing up, and tenderly hugged him. To think that now he had a second chance to live by his side, when he thought he would be lost forever in that soundless infinite darkness. “Keep an eye on that… little human.”

“Callum. He is called Callum.”

“As you wish to call him.” Runaan looked aside. It was obvious that the relationship between Callum and Runaan could not be easy. The boy had lost a loved one at Runaan’s hands. It did not matter if he was following orders or not, killing another creature was a solitary action between the assassin and their victim. No more to blame.

“Just trust me, like you should have trusted me when I told you about Rayla and the mission… please. Don't repeat the same mistake. I’ve measured Callum. He is a good boy.” Ethari smiled, a playful glint in his brown eyes, “A bit crooked, but I like it that way.”

Runaan’s face turned a bit more serious, looking past Ethari for a second, “A human with skywing powers. Crooked is such a light word to describe him.” Runaan raised an eyebrow and sighed. _Yes_. He had to comply for the first time in his life. He had got a miraculous second chance to enjoy his family in convoluting times, he had to approach things with a different angle from now on. “Fine, fine.”

“We only need to be careful with all their eagerness... they need to wait until adulthood.”

“I would not fear for that. Rayla is a proper moonshadow…. she follows tradition.” Runaan said.

Ethari blinked at him, then averted his eyes as a mischievous smile curved his lips, “Like a proper one I know who still owns me the ritual of the First Time.”

Runaan slightly widened his eyes, his mouth moved without pronouncing any words, and a slight blush coloured his cheek. “Ah… that… it’s… a bit late… for that.”

Both of them looked at each other for a moment, silently, and then burst into laughter. They kissed once more and Runaan rode on the Shadowpaw.

“Keep an eye on her. I shall return as soon as possible. That, I promise.”

“You better.”

They looked at each other, their smiles still lingering, when Runaan gave the order and started his way back to Silvergrove.

A new world had just begun.

* * *

* * *

##  **_ Final Comments _ **

The timeline of the whole fic is vague because that’s how I perceived it in the show. More or less, I hope it was clear when every scene was happening by using certain events and Rayla’s age as temporal markers.

I know this open ending must feel a bit rushed or a bit so-so in comparison with the rest of the fic. I did it on purpose. The only thing I wanted to achieve in the last 3 chapters was a bit more participation of Ibis and an “open” closure for Runaan and all the drama of the coin.

Ibis and Ethari’s interactions, as well as the reunion with Runaan were my main goals in those chapters. I did not want to work on developing a post-ending situation when the whole show is not over yet.

Elves, dragons, and humans at the end of Season 3 made me feel that there was a big hole to fix, or much more content to come, so I would hate writing a “post-season” fic when I’m sure the next season will come out eventually and destroy with its canon all the efforts I put in crafting additional headcanons.

Another thing that annoyed me was the lack of any tension between humans and elves in the last episodes of the 3rd season. They can fight alongside as if they always were super good buddies without mistrust or any kind of conflict. And the biggest of the holes in my opinion was Zubeia’s super ecstasy reaction to see elves and humans together. All dragons in the show were always deeply suspicious of humans, Zubeia herself ordered to kill Harrow and Ezran. She is not _THAT_ chill with them. And honestly, I can’t believe she would take so fine having some of those humans with random elves entering her room. Sure, Zym is there, but c’mon. She has several layers of hatred that were not shown in that last scene.

That’s why I gave her a softer reaction to certain abuses, but still yet her draconic assholeness. But in order to properly write this complex environment, adding the whole geopolitical situation of Xadia, I would have required 15 chapters more and a lot of headcanons and deviations from the canon ending of season 3, and in the end it would be thrown to trash since this series didn’t finish yet. I prefer to write a post-ending fic once the series or game is finished for good. I’ve done an exception with this fic, thus all the considerations and incompatibilities on purpose.

I also was sad how the show left aside the neutrality of the concept of dark magic. Not all dark elements are evil, Claudia has shown that. In this last season we were mostly fed with the concept that dark magic is an abomination while having a sophisticated system of assassins like Runaan’s, is something honourable. I wanted to play a bit with grey lines between those two topics, even though the show gave me the sense that they were not going in that direction.

I also would have liked to explore in more detail Tiadrin and Lian’s relationship in the same way as their relationship with Ethari and Runaan, but up to the moment I finished this fic, nothing of that has been shown. So I prefer to put that aside and wait for more canon material related to them to be released.

Same as the reunion itself. It’s very likely to have a canon reunion of Ethari and Runaan, so I didn’t work too much on this one. Unlike the general fandom, I don't think Runaan would say he fulfilled his promise since escaping from the coin was something that he had no control over. Besides, he has always aimed to die in my opinion. He [accepted death after completing half of his mission](https://lairofsentinel.tumblr.com/post/189662667471) as a way to get his punishment, so he believes he failed the moonshadows AND Ethari. He is more likely to ask forgiveness to Ethari than telling him that he fulfilled the promise, especially when he did nothing to keep it.

There are also a lot of headcanon situations I would have liked to explore between Runaan and Callum [their relationship is not easy at all in my opinion. Callum (and Ezran) would always keep mixed feelings toward Runaan. He does it with Avizandum. After all, Runaan was their father’s killer. But certainly Ezran and Callum would not ask for revenge. On the other side, Runaan may feel some hint of guilt mixed with his proud attitude of “I was following orders”, but the guilt would increase over time as he sees Callum is not a bad person] but for that I would have required to work on a post-ending setup, a post-ending geopolitical situation and all that relationship explored in many chapters. All that would go to trash, once again, due to the fact that this shows is not over, so eventually, canon will overwrite many of those situations and I like to keep my fics with as much canon as possible.

  
Anyway, this is my humble contribution to the fandom. My crappy art of some scenes of this fic can be found [in this tag](https://lairofsentinel.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3A-The-Many-Phases-of-the-Moon), and of course, you are free to leave opinions, comments, and kudos here or in my tumblr. Thank you for your time reading this and mainly, thank you to [ChaoticTonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticTonic/pseuds/ChaoticTonic) for such wonderful beta reading work :D.


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